


Let the Good Things last

by Milaley



Series: Oh for loving you is like breathing [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arya and Gendry talking like the adults that they are, Canon-Typical Violence, Communication, Episode: s08e04 The Last of the Starks, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Healthy Relationships, If D&D won't give them a happy ending then we will!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-03-01 13:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18801073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milaley/pseuds/Milaley
Summary: Gendry isn’t as drunk, it changes everything.





	1. You where my beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Episode 4 was an emotional mess, the scene between Arya and Gendry needed fixing and so I thought why not to try my hand at it. 
> 
>  
> 
> Quick disclaimer. I'm not a native speaker and I'm dyslexic so even though this has been spellchecked multiple times and beta-read there might be some errors left. Please either ignore them or tell me so I can correct them. Thank you :)

 

Gendry feels a bit giddy, probably elated and with wine clouding his mind. A name! he has a name! He’s not a nameless Bastard anymore, he is Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storms End! Lord of Storms End. Lord.

Oh dear.

He doesn’t know what to do with that if he’s honest with himself, and that thought is awfully sobering. A part of him, the emotionally charged part, wants to go out immediately, find Arya and kiss her and maybe… but the bigger, now shockingly sober part of him tells him he should sit down first and eat something to soak up the alcohol in his blood. So, Gendry sits back down on his seat opposite of Sandor Clegane and stares at the table for a bit.

“Lord of Storms End,” the gruff voice of the hound pulls him out of his thoughts, “those cunts probably think they can make you loyal to them by giving you a lordship if you ask me. Fucking twats. A blind man could see that you’re only loyal to the Starks! One Stark in particular.”

And then the big man rips off a leg of his chicken and shoves it at Gendry with an expression that says he won’t take a no for an answer.

Gendry hesitantly takes the chicken from the hound eyeing it suspiciously and then taking a bite of it anyway.

“How am I supposed to be Lord of anything! I don’t even really have my letters. Aye, I know how to run a smithy, how to make money from my trade but I have no idea how to govern anything!"

Sandor only huffs “like I could help you with any of that” then he pauses and squints at him like he’s trying to solve a puzzle “eat that and then find Arya, then you can wallow over being lord and Lady together”

Gendry doesn’t even think about not obeying and tears through the chicken leg. He’s right, he has to talk to Arya, she’ll know what to do, she always does, always did when they were on the run together. And if he is honest with himself, and he has to be honest with himself, then he has no intention to take another step in his life without her by his side. He never wants to miss her deadly wit, her strength, her kindness, and beauty ever again.

 

The cold winter air that hits him as he steps outside is enough to remove the last of the drunken haze that the food and realization of a sudden responsibility dumped on his head had not been able to remove. Now to find Arya.

It takes him a while but, in the end, he shouldn’t be surprised when he finds her in a storage area, shooting arrows at a target just like the night before the battle.

She almost hits him with an arrow and gods help him because that might make him a fool but the way she holds herself, the grace of her posture, the sure but delicate grip on her bow… she’s beautiful, no she’s stunning. She almost takes his breath away.

“Don’t shoot!” he says and walks over to her and Arya gives him one of those smiles that make his knees feel weak. Yes, sobering up a bit before coming here had been a good idea. Otherwise, he might have done something stupid like propose right here and now. Not that it’s not something he doesn’t want to do, just maybe right now might not be the right moment, not the right time with so much that’s still left unsaid between the two of them.

She shoots another arrow

“It’s nighttime, freezing, everyone’s celebrating, most of them are celebrating you and you’re here”

She grins and aims again “I am celebrating”

The arrow hit’s bullseye. He hadn’t expected anything less of her, how could he.

“Shooting arrows isn’t really what I would call celebrating”

Arya huffs and shoots him a glance full of mirth “it is when you’re good at it”

And the sly grin on her face is just simply too much so Gendry leans down to kiss her, his hands coming up to cup her elbows. Her lips are soft and warm, it feels like heaven and when they separate, she keeps her eyes closed for another moment, mouth open like she desperately wants more. Open and so, so inviting! So he leans down to kiss her again, let’s go of her arms to grab her by the waist and pull her body against his. The Bow clatters to the ground as Arya lets it slip from her fingers in favor of wrapping her arms around his neck. Kissing her felt like heaven the night of the battle and the morning afterward and it feels like heaven now.

They are both a bit breathless when they separate, and Arya’s eyes are hazy with something he doesn’t dare to decipher.

“Why did you do that?” she asks with wonder in her voice

Gendry shrugs “felt like it”

Arya grins at him but then her expression falters and she cups his cheek, expression thoughtful “something’s bothering you, something is on your mind”

He sighs, she had always been good at reading him.

“I’m no longer Gendry, a lowborn bastard from Fleabottom. The Dragon Queen legitimized me and made me Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storms End.”

Arya looks at him with wide eyes “congratulations” but then her expression falters a bit “but how did she know about your father?”

“No idea, the only people that are supposed to know about it are you, Jon and Davos. Stannis and Melisandre knew but they are dead” Gendry sighs “I was leaving the great hall, intend on finding you when she called my name, stared me in the eye and told me she knew I’m Robert Baratheon’s bastard. I thought at that moment that she might strike me down then and there from the way she looked at me.”

He tries to laugh to lighten the heavy mood that has somehow fallen over them, but it fails. Arya looks at him thoughtfully “it must have been Varys, he has spies everywhere, he must have known, or maybe Tyrion recognized you as your father’s son. You’ll have to be careful; she’s probably trying to buy your loyalty with it.” Arya throws him a pointed look, steps out of his arms and picks up her bow from the floor.

“Aye, I know,” Gendry says rubbing his neck, “the hound said the same”

“Sandor did what?”

“Told me it’s probably to gain my loyalty. Then shoved some chicken at me and told me to sober up before looking for you. I think he knows about us by the way”

Arya’s staring at him and exclaims in bewilderment: “he shared his chicken with you?”

Gendry nods and moves to sit down on one of the big crates lining the hallway “he did”

Arya shakes her head in disbelieve “he must really like you then” she mutters “or pity you. I don’t think he ever shared his chicken with anyone”

She shakes her head again, nocks an arrow and shoots it at the target. Bullseye.

“That's not everything though, is it? There’s something else bothering you.” She says almost in passing but he’s known her long enough to realize that the indifference is only a mask

He sighs “I have no idea on how to be a lord. I can’t even read beyond a few words and all of those have something to do with the forge. I am grateful for the name; it feels nice to be recognized but the lordship… I guess I just don’t know what to do”

Arya turns to him with a kind smile “you would be a wonderful lord! It’s not only about knowing your letters or the lay of the land and all that. That can be learned. But you’re an honorable and kind man and I know I tend to call you stupid to tease you but you’re not. You’re someone who cares for those he’s been charged to protect. You would be a great lord. And I know your people would love you!”

“how can you know that?” he says doubt heavy through his voice

Her eyes turn soft, the line of her mouth incredibly gentle and she looks as if she’s about to say something, taking a breath and then ducking her head down, breaking eye contact “I just do” Arya murmurs eventually.

“So, you think I should take Storms End? Be a lord?”

Arya sighs and sits down next to him on the crate, “I never wanted to be a Lady, but being a lord is different from being a lady! As lord you make decisions, go to war, you defend and act. You have a responsibility but you also have a lot of freedom. A Lady sits around, sings, entertains, looks pretty and manages the servants and household. A lady gets married off to the highest bidding lord as soon as she’s of age like a broodmare and is expected to give birth to as many sons as possible. If you’re lucky, you fall in love the way my parents did or maybe just have mutual respect for each other and become friends. If you’re unlucky every day for the rest of your life will be rape and torture. Ladies are not supposed to fight back; we are supposed to bend to the will of other men and submit.”

Her voice turns quiet almost as if it pains her, “many, many years ago, so long it feels like a lifetime, after my father allowed me to train with needle I asked him if one day I could be lord of a holdfast and he smiled and said that I would one day marry a high lord and that my sons would be lords of holdfasts instead. I told him that that wasn’t me.“ she sighs again and stares at the ground, words almost a whisper as if she’s afraid of them, “I love my father, I do but I don’t think he understood how much it hurt me to hear him say that.” She looks back up and into his eyes “that’s why I could never be a lady. It’s just not who I am.”

“Then change it,” Gendry says, taking her hand in his. Even throughout the leather, he can feel her warmth, “whether you want it or not, by birth you are a Lady. And if the definition of being a Lady is wrong, then change the definition. Throw tradition and rules out of the window and build your own!

You are the best fighter I have ever seen; you might be the best fighter in all of Westeros! You could change it all, build a place where other women can come and learn to do what you do, teach them how to defend themselves, how to stand up for themselves. Change what being a lady means.”

And Arya looks at him with wonder in her eyes and then smiles “you’re Lord of Storms End now, you could do that. Change the rules.”

Gendry looks at the warmth in her eyes and decides to take a leap of faith “not on my own. Would you help me? Be by my side?”

The slow almost shy grin spreading on her face is worth it “I would like that.”

Arya stands up again, moving to shoot another arrow, it hits the bullseye

“So, you’ll do it then?” she says after a moment

“Be the Lord of Storms End? Probably, but only if I can still also be a smith. Though there’s still time, we still have another war to fight.”

“Right, Kings Landing.” She nocks the next arrow and shoots, then another and another each hitting the center of the target and with every arrow hitting the bullseye the previous softness of her expression disappears and gets replaced by a shell of hardness. It pains him to see her like this. Angry and closed off. It’s not the first time he sees it, he’s seen it before this cold boiling rage. It is as if she’s shooting her arrows not at a target made out of straw and cloth, but at Cersei Lannister’s heart. One arrow for her father, one for her mother, one for Robb, one for Rickon.

It pains him to see her like this and not for the first time since finding her again here in Winterfell, he wonders what happened to her during the time they were apart. What horrors did she witness, what lengths did she have to go to in order to survive?

That thought makes him want to gather her into his arms, kiss her, and never let her go. Never let her out of his sight ever again.

And still, in her cold rage, she is still stunning.

 

“You’re beautiful,” he says.

The arrow misses the target and hits the wall behind it.

Arya’s eyes are wide, the hard mask on her face has vanished.

It’s like this is the first time she heard anyone say those words to her, and it might be if the thinks about it.

She puts her Bow down on the floor, walks two steps over to him, cups his face and kisses him in such a sweet way he wants to drown in it.

“Why would you say something like that” she whispers in the space between their lips.

“Because it’s true” he answers in the same fashion and then he just can’t stop himself any longer “you’re beautiful and clever and deadly and amazing and I love you and if you’d let me I would follow you till the end of the world because I never want to spend another day of my life without you in it!”

And then he gulps, scared that him running his mouth just ruined everything and Arya smiles but her eyes are sad.

“You can’t promise that”

“Why not?”

She leans her head against his “because I might go where you won’t be able to follow me”

“I don’t care. Unless you forbid to do so I will stay by your side from now on.” He looks her in the eyes trying to make her see that this was the truth and nothing but the truth.

Arya straightens and looks down the corridor, looks like she is looking far, far away “I have to go to kings landing, and I’m not sure if I can come back from it. But I have to, I have to do it because Cersei is still on– “

“-your list of names, I know”

Her face turns back to his like his words had surprised her “you remembered”

“Of course I did, you recited that damn list of yours every night since Harrennhall!” he grasps her hand in his and pulls her to stand between his legs “listen, I don’t care that you’re going to kings landing, I don’t care that you have this preconceived notion that you have to do everything alone and I don’t care about you being stubborn about leaving on your own to kill the queen! I will not let you go on a suicide mission alone. If you think you can just leave to die on your own then you are gravely mistaken because I will follow you.” he squeezes her hand and something in her face softens for a moment “I’ve already lost you once Arya, and it tore me apart! After Davos freed me from my uncle and the Red Witch and I arrived in Kings Landing, the first thing I heard on the streets was that the Starks had been killed at the red wedding and it broke my heart! I thought you _dead_!” Gendry’s voice breaks but he can’t bring himself to care “I thought the brotherhood had reunited you with your family just in time for you to die with them. I mourned you, I wept for you! and then I walked into Winterfell and there you were. Alive. And it felt like I could breathe again! So, unless you really don’t want me to, from now on I will go where you go.”

He looks into Arya’s eyes. They are wet and glistening and filled with so much emotion.

“Gendry- “

“I love you Arya Stark, will you let me be your family?”

Her breath hitches and suddenly he finds himself with a lap full of Arya, her body flush against his. She’s clinging to him as a drowning man clings to the last thing keeping him afloat, her head buried in his neck

“You might die” she whispers in the space between his throat and shoulder

“I know”

“I might die”

“I know,” he says and squeezes her harder

She lifts her head and looks him in die eye “we both might die”

His grin is lopsided and feels a bit wrong “well then at least we die together. I heard it’s not so bad if you do that.”

Arya crushes her mouth against his, fingers digging into the back of his skull, desperate.

“You are not allowed to die!” she bites when they come up for air “you are not allowed to die Gendry!” the look in her eyes is wild “you can’t!”

He cups her cheek “then we don’t. You kill the queen; finish your list and we survive. We’ve come this far, why not go further and have a future. And if we die, then we die together. Side by side.”

“Where you go, I go” Arya whispers like a revelation, her eyes searching Gendry’s face as a slow smile spreads on his and then her eyes widen as if she had just found the answer to an impossibly complex problem “marry me!” she says with reverence.

Gendry blinks “what?”

“Marry me! Marry me tonight! Be mine and I will be yours for however long we have left! Because you” she gulps for air “are right. You are right. I don’t want to spend another day in my life without you in it either and that terrifies me. But if we die then I want the world to know that you belonged to me! For however short of an amount of time, this was the fact.”

“And if we survive and I decide to become the lord of Storms End?”

Arya gently cups his cheeks and her eyes are filled with love “I trust you to not try and change me into something I am not.”

“I would never!”

“I know. And I love you Gendry Baratheon.” She’s smiling now and Gendry feels as if his heart is about to burst “so marry me, Marry me tonight.”

“Isn’t tonight a bit short of notice?”

Arya shakes her head and leans against his chest “not if we have an old gods ceremony in the Godswood. All we need for that are two cloaks and family. I’ve always felt closer to the old gods than the new anyway.”

He holds her closer and closes his eyes “are we really doing this? it seems a bit rushed and yet so right. But then again how can it be rushed when I was already half in love with you at seven and ten…”

“I think I loved you before I knew what it meant. A scrawny little thing of three and ten, walking after you in the woods, wanting to be your family.” She lays her head on his shoulder and they both stay quiet for a moment until she decides to speak again “do you remember Acorn Hall? Seems like we might end up in a featherbed after all.”

Gendry laughs quietly “of course I remember Acorn Hall. They put you in a dress and I thought you looked pretty but was too much of a stupid bullhead to say so.” He kisses the top of her head and smiles, “So… how are we going to do this? I don’t really know how an old goods ceremony works.”

Arya sighs, sits up and untangles herself from him, then pulls both of them to their feet.

“Well, we both need cloaks. House colors are traditional but since you don’t have a special one yours should work just fine and I’ll be damned if there isn’t a stark cloak somewhere within Winterfell! And we need someone from each of our families to give both of us away. I can grab my brothers and sister. And you…” she stops to think

“Ser Davos...” Gendry says after a moment of silence “Ser Davos could play the family on my part. He’s looked out for me and was my uncles’ hand.”

“That should be good enough” the expression on Arya’s face is almost giddy, Gendry is sure his own mirrors hers. They are really doing this then! He pulls her in for a quick chaste kiss on the lips. Her hands reach up to grab his leather tunic to keep him close

“So, I’ll go look for my siblings and a Stark cloak and you go get your cloak and Ser Davos and we’ll meet at the Godswood?”

Gendry nods “maybe we should invite Clegane, I think he would like to be there too”

“He would. Hells if Jon is too drunk to hand me over, he might have to play that part” Arya says and laughs at the realization. Then she lets go of his Tunic, kisses him one more time and turns away with a “come on, we don’t have all night”

And Gendry stands there for a moment longer, watching her leave the storage and wonders two things: How come that almost all his life-changing interactions with Arya Stark happen around bows, arrows, and sacks of grain and if there is any chance he will ever recover from the fantastic and wonderful mess that Arya Stark has made his life into. But then again, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell you what, I realized something. The mess that GOT has become at times, becomes a lot more bearable once you realize that the show is actually just an "A Song of Ice and Fire" canon divergence AU. It's basically one giant and popular fanfic with actors, a production company and at times really horrible writing and ooc-ness.
> 
> And I will forever stay salty about the fact that they stole Arya's warging abilities and her wolf dreams.
> 
> Also, I might add a second chapter where Arya tells her siblings that she needs them at the Godswood like right now because she wants to marry her soulmate before they ride off to Kings Landing together ~~but I'm not sure yet so for now, this is just a one-shot~~  
>  screw that, I'm writing chapter two right now so stay tuned! ~~and maybe even more after that but we'll see~~


	2. Bring me to my Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I need you to help me,” she says, trying to keep her tone as neutral as she can with a big grin on her face “I want to marry Gendry and I want to do it tonight.”
> 
> She doesn’t know what she had expected Sansa's reaction to be, but the completely dumbfounded expression on her sister's face almost cracks her up nonetheless. As does the high pitched “WHAT?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this thing has taken on a life on its own and grown... oh dear how it has grown. 
> 
> Just as a warning: This will loosely follow the canon storyline just with gendrya as a focus. Dany will still burn down Kings Landing in this (partly because I was one of the people who saw this kinda from a mile away? Don't get me wrong I love her character but I wasn't really that surprised, the execution of how it happened was just sloppy. This season really needed a few more episodes to make it less rushed!) If this is a no-go for you then I'm sorry, you'll have to read something else.

It should be easier for a trained assassin to find her own family in her own home. But then again her head is in the clouds at the moment, giddy with the prospect of having Gendry for forever after tonight, so the fact that it takes her longer than a few minutes to find her sister can be excused. She finds her in her Solar, a cup in hand and thoughtfully staring out of the window.

“Hello Sansa”

Her sister whips around clearly surprised to see her standing there “gods Arya! Someday we’ll have to put a bell on you so you don’t scare someone half to death!” she puts down her cup on a nearby table and walks over to her to put a gentle hand on her shoulder “where were you? we missed you at the feast.”

Arya shrugs “didn’t feel like it.”

“You seem… really happy?” her Sister says and brushes a few stay hairs on her head back. Sansa has rid herself of her gloves and her hands are warm on her temple. It’s a gentle gesture, one never to be seen back before Kings Landing but now… they are closer, trust a steady and warm thing between the two of them. They are comfortable with each other now and because of that Sansa is a lot more perceptive of her little sister’s emotions. But then again Arya is not able to wipe the grin off her face at the moment and a blind person could probably see she’s beaming.

“Arya, did you do something?”

Arya ducks her head and can’t help but laugh. Her sister might not be trained by the faceless men but when it comes to her pack, she’s almost scarily good at detecting truth and emotion. She looks up into her sister’s eye and finds to her surprise that she has to gather a good amount of courage to say what she’s about to say. She wants Sansa to approve, want’s her sister to be happy with the decision she’s made, approve of her life choices. Somewhere within herself, there is still that little girl who just wants her big sister's love and acceptance.

“I need you to help me,” she says, trying to keep her tone as neutral as she can with a big grin on her face “I want to marry Gendry and I want to do it tonight.”

She doesn’t know what she had expected her sister’s reaction to be but the completely dumbfounded expression on Sansa’s face almost cracks her up nonetheless. As does the high pitched “what?”

Arya has to bite her lip to not burst out laughing and waits for her sister to try and collect her thoughts.

“Gendry. As in the blacksmith Gendry. As in newly legitimized Bastard of Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storms End Gendry?”

Arya only grins and nods

Sansa shakes her head and murmurs “I knew there was a reason you spend so much time at the forge!” and then her wide eyes snap back to her “Arya you’ve known him for little more than a fortnight! This is too fast. Are you drunk?”

Arya just shakes her head and her voice is soft “no, no Sansa I’m not. I’ve known him for years! I met him the day Father was murdered, we fled Kings Landing together.”

It’s interesting seeing Sansa’s emotions play out on her face. Even though her sister has become quite good and hiding her true feelings and pretend, Arya can still read her like an open book most times. Confusion followed by dawning realization and a flash of hurt

“you never told me.” It sounds almost like an accusation.

Arya’s smile dims a bit “we were both heading from the wall. Yoren – you remember him? – he disguised me as a boy to smuggle me out of Kings Landing and bring me back to Winterfell, Gendry had been sold to the Nights Watch to protect him from the Goldcloaks. We traveled on the Kingsroad until we got attacked and taken as prisoners to Harrenhall. After we escaped, we wandered the Riverlands until the Brotherhood picked us up and sold Gendry to the red witch.” She looks up into her sister’s eyes “until a fortnight ago I thought she had killed him.”

Sansa stares down at her little sister, blinking for a second.

“You love him.”

It’s a statement, not a question but Arya nods anyway

“Does he love you?”

“he does” in another time years ago back before the world turned dark, Arya would have been embarrassed by how warm and soft her voice sounds, but she’s a woman grown and in love and not afraid of showing how she feels anymore, “he really does and so do I. We both have for years and neither of us wants to take another step, in life without the other. We want to marry, and we want to marry tonight”

“Arya that’s still awfully quick, there is so much to do, so much to organize!”

“no, there isn’t” Arya takes her sister's hand “all we need are two cloaks, the Godswood, and family. Gendry doesn’t have a Baratheon cloak, but he has his own and that’s enough, there has to be a Stark cloak somewhere in Winterfell, the Godswood is still standing and my family is right here.” She squeezes Sansa’s hand “I just need them to come and take this step with me.”

Sansa envelopes her in a tight hug “of course! Of course, I will be there!” she leans down to press a kiss to Arya’s hairline “I am glad that you are happy little sister” she grabs her by the shoulders and pushes her away so they are an arm's length apart to study her “your clothes are… passable. Not what I would pick but then again, it’s you. You’ll need a cloak, but I have an idea of where to find one. So, I’ll get you a maiden cloak, get Bran and you go talk to Jon and convince him that this is not a stupid idea.”

Sansa had become scarily good at planning on the fly while they were apart Arya notices and not for the first time. She nods, “how drunk is he?” convincing her big brother that she is a woman grown, able to make her own decisions and to love and to decide to marry the man she loves while he is sober is one thing. Doing so while he is drunk is another. She just hopes he can still walk her through the trees to her betrothed. Betrothed. Huh? Gendry is now her betrothed, she likes the sound of that.

“Tormund challenged him to a drinking contest” is all Sansa says in a deadpan voice.

Arya sighs “all right. I guess that means very.”

Sansa grimaces “If he is unable to talk normally or walk in a straight line Bran and I will give you away” she pauses to think for a second “is there anyone else you want to have there?”

“Sandor Clegane” at Sansa’s surprised look she adds “we traveled together for a time, I might have gotten attached” she shrugs “oh and maybe Tormund? If he’s not too drunk. I think he might have gotten a bit attached to Gendry”

Her sister nods “that I can do. So, go run, get our brother I’ll organize the rest”

“we’ll meet at the Godswood,” Arya says as they both move to leave the room

“aye, I thought so.” She turns to leave down the corridor but then stops and turns back to Arya “I am glad that you are happy, sister!” Sansa smiles at her and then moves to down the hallway towards the stairs and as she leaves Arya hears her mutter under her breath “there should be a cloak in the laundry room, maybe even some yellow fabric”

Arya laughs quietly to herself at hearing that and then heads to her brother’s chambers.

 

Jon is sitting on the bench at the foot of his bed, head in his hands, despair on his face. He doesn’t notice her stepping into his room. The sight of him makes her stop in her track.

He is in agony, something is plaguing his mind, something… she can see it clearly in his posture, on his face and in the fact that there is an overturned chair near the fireplace as if someone had pushed it over in a fit of helpless rage. Something happened here. Something bad happened here, something that fills her brother with dread. She doesn’t like it. And somewhere in the very back of her mind a previously already present suspicion takes hold once again and grows.

She’s unsure of how to approach him, of how to say what she had come here to say now that she sees the state, he is in. Arya walks over to him on light, silent feet and sits down next to him on the bench.

Her hand on his shoulder startles him so much, his right hand goes to the nonexistent sword at his hip.

“Gods Arya! We really ought to put a Bell on you!” he exclaims, voice trying for humor but failing.

“what happened” for all the hardness and ice that had been shoved into her heart at the house of black and white she can still be remarkably soft and gentle when she wants to be when she needs to be.

“nothing. I just had too much to drink that’s all” he tries to laugh it off.

The slap to his hand is almost like a reflex that she had forgotten existed. Muscle memory from the past.

“lie.”

“what?” the confusion and almost hurt on his face makes her regret it.

“that was a lie” she tries to elaborate “sorry. The slap was an old reflex. But the point still stands. Something happened by the state you are in and the upturned chair over there,” she nods towards the side of the room, “or rather someone?”

Jon exhales shakily and forcefully “how have you become so good at reading people”

Arya lets out a small laugh “what I just observed isn’t reading people it’s called common sense. Reading people would tell me that you are evading me and don’t want to tell me what is going on with you right now which I can respect for now. But right now, I need you to pull yourself together and come with me to the Godswood because I want to marry Gendry.”

The look her brother gives her is one of pure horror “if you are trying to distract me then you have succeeded. But I hope you are joking”

She shakes her head, “no, I am not Jon. I love Gendry and he loves me, and we want to be wed tonight”

The laughter that Jon lets lose might almost be called hysteric “you and marriage. Arya, I know you’re having me on. I mean come on, I know you, little sister, you never wanted to marry anyone.”

Arya looks at her brother and tries to remember that he is her favorite sibling and hitting him might relive the frustration that his disbelieve has built in her, but that won’t help her cause “is it really so hard to believe that I found a man who I love? Who loves me for who I am, who respects me and wants to stay by my side? Just because you have trouble in paradise with the dragon queen does not mean that I can’t find my own version of happiness!”

“Arya you’ve known each other for maybe a fortnight, and you are still so young!”

“No, I don’t and I’m not.” She stands and looks down at her brother, “I’ve known Gendry for seven years, we fled kings landing together as recruits for the nights watch, he was sold to them by his master to protect him from Cersei and I was found and recognized by the nights watch recruiter Yoren where they murdered father and disguised as a boy to bring me back to Winterfell. I’ve known him for half my life Jon, he was always by my side and I was by his side. On our way to the wall, he was the only one I trusted with my true name, we kept each other sane while imprisoned and enslaved in Harrenhall and safe while wandering the Riverlands after our escape!

And I am not a young maiden anymore Jon. I am a woman grown and flowered! In fact, I flowered years ago while I was held for ransom by the brotherhood and I had no one beside me but Gendry who helped me burn the bloodied sheets and brought me water to clean myself. To help me hide that I was no longer a little girl. He’s been there for me! He always was until they sold him to the red witch. And I trust him! I trust him more then I trust anyone else, more than even you, Sansa or Bran!” She fixes her brother with a hard stare “and I won’t let anyone come between us ever again. Not dragons, not this stupid game of thrones and not even you.”

Jon stares up at her, eyes wide and it’s like he’s seeing her for the first time, the real Arya and not the faded image of the little Arya of one and ten years old. He looks at her and sees the young warrior woman she has become.

“how did you grow up so quick”

“The world left me no other choice. I am no little girl Jon, I’m a woman of eight and ten. If mother and father were still alive I would have been married years ago and probably already given birth by now. And I would be miserable for it.”

“aye! And that has me confused. You never wanted to marry!”

Arya smiles at him sadly, “I know, but time and war will change people. I survived for so long, now I want to live! And this is my choice, not someone else’s choice. I know Gendry would never even dare to try and change me or bend me to his will. He loves me, and I love him. Everything else is just a formality”

“he will treat you well?”

Arya nods “aye, he will.”

“You will become the Lady of Storms End?”

“Maybe” she shrugs “Gendry’s not so sure if he wants to be lord anyway. We’ll figure it out together.”

“You mean he doesn’t want to be a lord?” Jon sounds perplexed. Doesn’t he know anything? Arya wonders.

She’s done that a lot since the two of them reunited, wonder about him. He has changed, they all have but sometimes she feels as if her brother who for the longest time was the only person to truly understand her, doesn’t understand her at all anymore. And somehow that hurts more than a thousand beatings by the waif. Maybe they just need a few days, maybe quiet hours to talk to become familiar once again. But finding Jon in quiet moments right now seems impossible. He is either planning with the generals or with his dragon queen. And if he is not doing that he seems closed off, hiding and lying about being perfectly fine.

“not really but then again, I don’t want to be a Lady either. We decided we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, maybe redefine what it means to be a Lord and a Lady.” She stares him in the eyes and her voice turns cold “Jon, tell me and don’t lie. Was it you who told the dragon queen about who Gendry’s father was?”

Jon looks at her startled “gods no! I was as surprised as anyone else when she announced it!”

“Good, because whoever told her, put my betrothed in great danger and I’m not one to easily forgive.”

Her brother stares at her and breaks out into laughter

“what!” she demands irritated

“forgive me little sister but hearing you say the words ‘my betrothed’ with such protective ferociousness is not something I ever expected when we were children.” He stands and smiles down at her fondly “you really changed, and I am glad. I am glad that at least one good thing has come out of this war, I am glad that you found friendship, found love. I will lead you to him if that is what you wish”

A warmth fills Arya’s heart as she looks up at Jon and suddenly, she sees him again, that big brother of hers. A bastard boy, but the best boy she had known until Gendry had come into her life. She can see him again, him from when she was just a little girl running from unwanted lessons of etiquette and needlework.

She smiles up at Jon and says, “it is.”

 

They walk down to the entrance of the Godswood together. At the gate, Arya sees a group of people. Sandor with an uncharacteristically large grin plastered on his face, Tormund laughing loudly and patting Gendry so hard on the back that he actually stumbles, Ser Davos with a proud smile, Ban in his chair, Sansa sitting on the armrest of said chair with yellow cloth and thread and needle in hand and to her surprise Tyrion Lannister with his arms behind his back swinging back and forth on the balls of his feet looking cheerful.

Gendry is the first to notice her and a bright smile spreads on his face at the sight of her, eyes going soft. She steps up to him and he takes her hand in his, gently squeezing it.

“Everything alright?”

She nods and squeezes back then turns to Tyrion, “might I ask what you are doing at my wedding?”

The dwarf of Castelyrock gives her a small smile and says “forgive me Lady Arya, but I overheard your sister talking to the hound in the great hall and decided to invite myself. It is, after all, a historical event, House Stark and House Baratheon finally coming together, especially since the last two attempts turned out… let’s just say unpleasant. And as a man who likes to collect stories, I simply didn’t wish to miss this.”

Arya scrutinizes the man for a few moments and then turns to share a look with Gendry. It is somehow comforting to know that they are still able to communicate whole sentences with just a single look shared between the two of them the way they did as children.

She turns back to Tyrion “ok, I guess you can stay.” She looked over at Sansa and seven hells what was her sister doing “Sansa, did you find me a maiden cloak?”

“I did” Sansa doesn’t even look up from her work and Arya lets go of Gendry's hand to satisfy her curiosity

“what are you doing, is that a...?”

“no.” her sister looks up briefly from where she is currently stitching a button on a large piece of yellow cloth with a black border around the edge, “I think it is an old tablecloth? Probably used at some feast, mayhaps when aunt Lyanna was betrothed to Robert or something. It has the Baratheon colors and is the right size to be used as a cloak, just needs a bit of additional work.”

Arya leans closer and in the torchlight, she can see small finely woven linen fabric with patterns in the weave, patterns of stags and to her surprise wolves. It probably really was used at a feast to celebrate the union of house stark and Baratheon. Something in her heart squeezes, maybe grief from a forgotten past, something she never experienced. A memory she never had.

“you didn’t have to”

Sansa who is currently in the works of finishing a buttonhole stares up at her for a brief moment “no, but it is your wedding and I will do my best with the time give to me to prepare to make it as perfect as I possibly can.” She puts in a few more stitches, cuts the threat with a small knife she pulls out of her pockets and shakes out the fabric, holding it up and admiring it, “there, that should work. Gendry if you would be so kind to come here?”

Sansa places the tablecloth turned Baratheon cloak in Gendry's hand “here, now give me your coat, Lord Tyrion, if you would be so kind to hold onto the Lord Baratheon’s coat during until the ceremony, is over? Thank you.”

Arya watches Gendry inspect the cloak in his hands, running fingers along the weave-pattern of direwolfs and stags, smiling down at the fabric and the looking up and at her. Their eyes meet and for a moment Arya thinks she can see tears in his eyes and then he smiles at her and Arya's heart melts.

“I have a question,” he asks suddenly turning towards the others “I know it is customary and tradition that I should simply cloak her but that doesn’t seem fair to me. I never simply protected Arya and she never simply protected me. We’ve always protected each other. Shouldn’t this also reflect that? Why not simply exchange the cloaks. Would that be possible?”

There is so much love and respect in his voice towards her and Arya feels as if she’s about to burst with affection for him if she doesn’t do something. He looks at her siblings, Davos, and their guests and she steps up to him, turns him around with a hand on his shoulder and pulls him down into a brief but intense kiss.

“like the idea?”

Arya nods and they smile. It doesn’t matter that they are surrounded by other people, they are about to marry and Gendry’s words just affirmed to her what she already knows. He will never try to limit her freedom, to change her into something she’s not. She’s not sure if she has ever loved him as much as she does at this moment and it makes her feel as if she could fly.

A chuckle from her side brings her back to reality.

“It’s certainly not customary but I don’t think it would make the ceremony any less valid,” says Lord Tyrion.

When Arya looks at the group she sees Sansa with soft eyes turning to their brother

“what does the warden of the north say?”

Jon looks at her, looks at Gendry, looks at the way Arya’s left hand still rests on his chest and then Arya sees her Brother smile and nod, “aye, I approve of this decision.”

Arya grins up at Gendry “ok, let’s do this then”

“you are right little sister, let us begin,” says Sansa clapping her hands together “ok, everyone who is not Jon or Arya please follow me, I have torches right over here so please grab one, Sandor if you would be so kind to push Bran.” She then hooks her hand into Gendrys arm and drags him away from Arya and into the Godswood and Arya hears her say “I assume you have been told what you need to do dear good brother?”

Arya watches everyone disappear and Jon puts an arm around her shoulder, ruffling her hair affectionally and then smoothing it back down “you really love him, I must have been blind not to see it before, it is obvious.”

“I really do” she looks at him and he holds out a cloak hung over his other arm to her “your maiden cloak”

The cloak is white with a dark edge and the big image of a running Direwolf stitched onto it’s back. It’s made out of fine wool and feels soft to the touch, Arya looks into her brother’s eyes “will you put it on me?”

“of course”

It’s heavy, a bit heavier then the cloak she normally wears but it is warm and soft and smells a bit like lavender. The clasp in the front is delicate. Two wolf heads made of silver hooking together in the front through two long teeth like hooks. It feels right on her shoulders, it will look even better around Gendry’s shoulders. She likes the idea of wrapping up in her house colors.

And being wrapped up in his.

“After tonight you will be a Baratheon,” her brother says offering his arm to her

“No,” Arya shakes her head and puts her hand in the crook of his elbow “no matter what the world might say, I will always remain a wolf, I will always stay a Stark.”

He looks sad when she says that, like the weight of her words are almost suffocating him and Arya wonders what that means.

“yes, you will be,” Jon says and presses a kiss into her hair “are you nervous?”

“no? why should I be, I am about to wed my best friend and the man I love.”

“that’s not what I mean. I meant about” Jon stammers, he actually stammers! Arya’s not sure if she ever heard him stammer before “I meant about after, what happens after the ceremony because I hope you- “

“Jon,” Arya shoots her brother a look “you are a few days late with worrying about that”

Jon stares at her and his “what?” is high pitched

“In my defense, we were both convinced that we wouldn’t survive the next few hours”

“good that’s” he clears his voice clearly embarrassed and relieved at the same time “that’s good.”

Arya laughs a bit at that “come on brother, I think they had enough time to prepare. Bring me to my husband.”

She pulls him into the Godswood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: the actual ceremony, the hound crying and denying it, the wedding night (har har) aaaand Arya and Gendry communicating because that's what a good and long-lasting healthy relationship is built on!
> 
> Updates will be slow because I am currently writing my Bachelor thesis and I only write this when I need a break from looking at statistics and facts and writing statistics and facts. But I have the entire storyline and plot planned out. It just needs to be written down.
> 
> Oh and Gendry was on that boat and you can't tell me otherwise!


	3. I'll be with you in the light of day and the darkest nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> „I just realized: I’m your wife now, I can take you to bed and no one will be able to protest!”
> 
> Gendry laughs, swoops down to kiss her briefly and then picks her up and spins around on the balls of his feet with her in his arms “you are, you can, and I hope you will!”
> 
> “Oh, I will, and that’s a promise!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My bachelor thesis is currently kicking my ass. Updates will continue to be slow as I only write on this story when I need a break from writing scientific stuff.
> 
> Anyway, have fun with this chapter! 
> 
> Oh also this chapter is NSFW but then again neither is GOT in general so... basically, if you can handle the Sex scene between Arya and Gendry in episode two then you can handle this chapter.

He might have just seen her a few minutes ago and she the only thing that’s different about what Arya is wearing is the white cloak around her shoulders, fastened in the front with a silver clasp. She is beautiful, she always is. Beautiful in rags, in armor covered in blood and mud, clad in her leather tunic, that acorn dress years ago, clad in only a blouse and breaches. Maybe it’s the fact that in just a few minutes she will wear the colors of his house, the house whose legacy he now somehow carries, that she will help him carry and that makes him want to pick her up and kiss her senseless right here right now. Instead, he just stares at her with soft eyes as she walks down the path lit by the torches that their guests are carrying. She’s walking on Jon’s arm and she is beaming at him, at Gendry and Gendry knows that she can’t wait either to get this over with, to be one in the eyes of the gods and men. Oh, how he wants her to pull him into her chambers! He can’t wait for that part of the night because however beautiful Arya is walking up to him clad in her leather tunic, pants, and grey and white cloak, he knows she is absolutely stunning wearing nothing.

And to think that from tonight on he will be hers and she will be his, that no one in the world will be able to separate them ever again. That thought is exhilarating!

Arya and Jon come to stand a few steps in front of him. They grin at each other.

Next to Gendry, Ser Davos clears his throat, “who comes before the old gods this night?”

Gendry has only eyes for Arya

“Arya of house Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the gods. Who comes to claim her?”

Arya’s eyes are soft, Gendry wants to drown in her.

“Gendry of house Baratheon,” he says and thanks the gods that his voice doesn’t shake “Lord of Storms End, Master Armorer and Blacksmith. Who gives her?”

“Jon Snow of House Stark, her Brother.”

“Lady Arya, will you take this man?”

Gendry’s not sure if it’s the light of the torches playing tricks on his eyes, but he thinks Arya’s eyes might be wet “Aye, with all my heart I take this man!”

She lets go of Jon’s arm and takes the last remaining steps up to him. They join hands and turn towards the Heart tree, kneeling down for silent prayer. Gendry squeezes Arya’s hand, she squeezes back. He doesn’t really know how to pray to the old gods, only ever prayed to the new and even that had been few and far between. But those are Arya’s gods, the gods of her father, the gods of the Starks. That means something to him and so he tries. He thanks them silently for reuniting Arya and him, thanks them for letting them live through the long night, asks them to let them live through the war to come and to give them a long and happy life together.

After a few moments, they silently rise again and let go of each other’s hand. Arya’s hands go to the clasp securing her cloak in the front and his hands go to the button holding his in place.

She slides the stark cloak from her shoulders, draping it over her arm and he wordlessly wraps his cloak around her shoulders. Their eyes meet. “turn around” her eyes say “and by the gods lean down a bit I’m not as tall as you are”

And so, he does. Somehow the weight of the Stark colored Cloak feels right as nothing else he has ever worn in his life ever has. It feels as if the colors of her house belong on his back.

They turn towards each other and for a moment Gendry gets lost in her eyes until she cups his face and he leans down and she goes to her toes and their lips meet. The air around them is cold, freezing even; Arya’s lips are warm. Somewhere in the back of Gendry’s mind, her registers that around them people are cheering and clapping but he couldn’t care less about other people right now, not when he is kissing Arya Stark, not when Arya Stark is his wife. He feels her grin against his lips, and he raises his hands to gently slide them around her waist and pull her closer.

“Oh, for fuck's sake that’s enough kissing you two!”

The Hounds gruff voice rips them out of their bubble and Gendry’s first instinct is to spring apart but Arya keeps her hand on his shoulders and keeps him close.

She turns her Head towards Sandor and says “I can kiss my Husband however much I like, thank you!” there is laughter in her voice and pure joy and Gendry smiles down at his wife and can’t help but grin because she is right, they are allowed to do that now openly. Kiss that is. Kiss and show affection. It’s no longer frowned upon! They can share a bed, and no one will be able to protest. He is hers and she is his from now on till forever.

“that doesn’t mean I have to watch you doing it though wolf bitch!”

“Oh _fuck of_ Sandor!”

For the first time since the ceremony started, Gendry looks away from Arya and turns his attention towards their guests. Sandor is scowling but his eyes are suspiciously wet; Tormund is grinning from ear to ear and absolutely elated, bouncing on his feet; Tyrion Lannister – Gendry is still absolutely not sure what to make of his presence – is smiling at them, nodding his head when he catches Gendry’s eyes, Gendry’s brown cloak is still in his hands. And then there are Jon, Sansa, and Bran. Standing together as a group, a family, a family he now is a part of – and if that thought isn’t exhilarating!

Lady Sansa is openly crying of joy, drying her eyes with a handkerchief, Lord Jon next to her isn’t fairing any better, tears in his eyes and on his face as he smiles at his little sister and there is an actual and real smile on Lord Bran's face.

The last person he turns to look at is Davos. The amount of fatherly pride directed at him almost makes Gendry stagger backward. He’s not used to this, absolutely not used to someone looking at him like this and it’s not the first time this night that Ser Davos has looked at him this way either! He had a similar expression on his face earlier when Gendry had asked him to play the part of his family during the ceremony when he had clapped him on the back and said in a strangled voice “of course son”. Now he nods and beams at him, hands clasped behind his back and tears in his eyes and Gendry can’t help but smile back at the old man. He just hopes that should he and Arya decide to become Lord and Lady of Storms end in the end, Davos will be by their side.

In his arms, Arya begins to laugh. It’s a sound of pure joy and he looks back down at her fondly and she looks up at him all soft-eyed with laughter on her face and whispers drunken on love and with mirth in her voice „I just realized: I’m your wife now, I can take you to bed and no one will be able to protest!”

Gendry laughs, swoops down to kiss her briefly and then picks her up and spins around on the balls of his feet with her in his arms “you are, you can, and I hope you will!”

“Oh, I will, and that’s a promise!”

Gendry puts her back down on the ground and presses a kiss into her hairline, Arya sighs contently and leans against his chest, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“we should make a toast! I’ve brought wine” says Lady Stark and pulls a bottle of wine and several metal cups from Bran's wheelchair – no wait, it’s not Lady Stark anymore or Lady Sansa or milady, she is his good sister now, she is just Sansa. The Starks are part of his family now. He’ll have to remember that otherwise, he might accidentally insult Arya’s siblings and he really doesn’t want to do that!

Sansa is handing out cups and filling them with wine of a dark red color. Gendry accepts the cup she puts in his hand, keeping the other arm around Arya, Arya does the same.

And then Jon raises his cup, “I wouldn’t call myself a man of grad speeches but this is a very special occasion for many reasons so I will try anyway. I know my little sister often scoffed at romantic stories of princesses and knights and lovers that the world rips apart only for them to reunite years later but it appears she has found herself living one. If what she told me is correct, then Arya and Gendry met as children while running from our fathers’ murderers. Arya trying to get home, and Gendry running from people trying to kill him simply because he’s Robert Baratheon’s bastard. It seems a bit like a miracle but somehow in this godforsaken war, in midst of hunger and suffering my sister found a good man to stand by her side, found love in a hopeless world. And Gendry, the bastard son of a King found a High Lady who only sees the hearts of people and not the circumstance of their birth. When it comes to Nobility, Love matches are rare, too rare, which makes this extra special” He grins at them, inclines his head and basically shouts the next words „to Gendry and Arya, may they survive the coming war, may they find Happiness and safety and a long life!”

“to Gendry and Arya!” it rings around the Godswood

Arya turns to him; grey eyes shining like mirrors and says just loud enough for everyone to hear “to forest loves and forest lasses”

Gendry raises his cup “to no featherbeds for us”

 

 

Arya had liked the feeling of Gendry under her, of being the one in control but having him on top of her is exquisite! She knows of his strength, is attracted to it if she is truthful, but this… this is different. This is complete trust in one another she knows if he wanted he could hurt her badly but she also knows that he would never do so, so having him pin her down to the bed with his forearm across her hips while his mouth and tongue and fingers are buried in her sex, makes her moan even more. He could pick her up and throw her around if he wished to and somehow Arya knows that right now, she would let him do so gladly.

He has already made her peak once; she knows the second is close and closer and closer and then he crooks his fingers just _so_ and makes her fall apart with a high-pitched breathy moan on her lips.

 _Oh!_ She goes boneless in the furs.

Gendry has a lopsided grin on his face, a stupid lopsided grin that makes Arya want to kiss him silly.

“I think that one makes it two”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me you bull” Arya swats weakly at his shoulder and Gendry obliges

He tastes like her. She likes it. She wants him in her.

“I want you. I want you in me Gendry!”

He kisses her with hunger

“me too”

He settles between her legs and slips inside her.

Arya’s head drops into her pillow and Gendry lets out a deep moan, hiding his face against her neck and sucking at the skin he finds there, licking up the salt of her sweat.

They find a rhythm easily almost as if they had done this endless times before when it is truly only the second time. Arya loses herself in him. In the feel of his mouth against her neck, her jar, and on her own mouth, the hand on her breast, toying with her nipple, his steady and strong trusts. Once more, for the third time that night he drives her higher and higher, his hand leaving her teat, brushing over her stomach, slipping between her folds. Arya moans into his mouth, arches of the mattress and peaks. Gendry is close behind, pulling out at the last second and spending his seed on her belly and then collapsing half on top of her.

They both breathe heavy for a few moments and then their lips find each other’s again, exchanging lazy kisses, Arya feels boneless, like liquid, warm and completely satisfied liquid.

“I changed my mind; the featherbed is definitely an improvement,” Gendry says smiling at her.

“last time wasn’t so bad either”

“no, but this was still better.”

Arya grins “it was” then she frowns and points to the mess he made of her stomach “you didn’t do that last time.”

It is a question more then a statement and Gendry understands it as one “well last time I wasn’t really in the right mind to worry about putting a baby in your belly”

He untangles his limbs from hers and gets up, legs a bit shaky, and walks over to her basin to retrieve a wet cloth to clean themselves up with. His touch is gentle on her skin when he wipes his seed from her belly and his voice is quiet when he asks “I know now is not the right time but… is this something you want? Children I mean?”

Arya closes her eyes.

“I don’t know if I can anymore.” Her voice barely above a whisper. It hurts to say those words, hurts in a strange way.

He puts the wet cloth on the side table and his hands find the scars on her side, settling on top of them, the warmth of his hand sinking into her skin.

“because of those?”

Arya can only nod.

“the people who did this to you…” there is a cold rage in his voice.

“she’s dead. I killed her.”

“Good. You ever talked to a maester about it?”

“no, I didn’t really want to know”

Gendry settles back down beside her, settling half on top of her, legs entangled,  thumb slowly rubbing the scarred skin “why?”

“because… because they already took so much from me, there were so many choices I had no say in, I don’t want having children to be a choice that was made for me. Not knowing… I can pretend…” Arya closes her eyes and breathes for a moment. The amount of sadness that floods her takes her by surprise but then Gendry’s arm around her tighten and he presses a kiss to her temple.

“It’s ok Arya, I’m with you no matter what.”

She leans into him “I’m sorry that I might not be able to, I know you want them.”

“as long as I have you, I will be happy. But you never answered my question. Do you want them, children?”

Arya looks at him and thinks for a second and then suddenly she’s not in her chambers with Gendry anymore, she’s standing in an unfamiliar corridor of an unfamiliar castle and she sees a Girl of maybe six or seven years of age running towards her, black of hair with storm grey eyes in breeches and tunic, a wooden toy wolf in her hand and shrieking with laughter and then Arya blinks and the vision is gone again.

“Yes, I do. But not now. Not until the world is safe. Not until we can protect them in ways our parents never could.” She is a bit surprised by how sure she is of her answer. Surprised by her sudden feeling of longing.

Gendry beams at her, joy so plain on his face and he kisses her “then we’ll fill the halls with orphans if we can’t have our own.”

They kiss again and again, their kisses becoming heated, the passion from earlier returning once more and it doesn’t take long until Gendry’s head is between her legs for the second time that night.

 

 

It’s a wonderful feeling of having Arya in his arms whilst she sleeps. She’s curled up against his chest similar to the way when they where children trying to stay warm in the rain on hard forest floors only now there is nothing innocent about the way they cling to each other naked in her – their - bed. The foolish dream he had as a boy somehow reality. He can have her now, he has her now. He is hers, and she is his.

Earlier, bevor she fell asleep they had talked some more, telling each other about the time they were apart, about the hardships and rare moments of joy they had experienced in the past years and now he can’t sleep, mind reeling of the horrors she had told him of, horrors she had witnessed.

He had known of the red wedding, had heard rumors about that she had been seen there but when she told him about the Freys parading her brothers defiled body around, his heart had broken for her all over again. The fact that she had pressed herself close to him and shook with tears had only made it worse.

If he thinks of it now it might have been the first time in years, maybe ever that she had let herself fall apart like that. Now he holds her closer and closer still, vowing to himself that she’ll never have to be alone like that ever again. That she’ll always have him to lean on to.

In the darkness, Gendry curls around Arya, kisses her forehead and drifts off into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this? I certainly did. Fun fact: I wrote this to endless loops of the J. S. Bach Concerto for two violins.
> 
> Also, I have this headcanon that Gendry LOVES to eat Arya out. Maybe that might be supported by the fact that I'm a lesbian but meh... you never know.
> 
> see you in a few weeks!
> 
> (oh and I absolutely LOVE the feedback you guys have given me so far I just absolutely have not the time to respond to all your wonderful comments!)


	4. When the night's rowling in like thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry nods and pulls her close for a quick kiss “I’ll be careful, I’ll be covered in soot, smoke, grease, and ashes surrounded by other smiths who I can trust.”
> 
> Arya sighs leaning her head against his, voice sounding small “I can’t lose you. not to wights, not to Cersei, and not to dragons and their queen.”
> 
> “you won’t”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuh surprise? this is what happens when your Professor won't give you a straight answer on a very important topic regarding your Thesis! You write 9 pages of fanfiction out of frustration! (after writing 4 pages of bachelors thesis)
> 
> right now it is close to midnight, I am still sitting at my workstation in the Univerity building and still very very frustrated at my professor and his conflicting opinions on how I should cite my sources.
> 
> Bad for me, good for you I guess.

_She’s running through the woods, fresh kill in her mouth, the taste of blood on her tongue. Running, running, running, her pack at her back. The small rabbit she found wasn’t enough, they need to find something bigger. She won’t let her pack go hungry another night._

Arya wakes up with a gasp the iron taste of blood still in her mouth. She’s warm and pleasantly sore in all the right ways, Gendry plastered against her, his strong arms around her. It is strange, she is a skilled warrior, she doesn’t need someone to protect her, yet she has never felt as safe as she feels when she is in his arms. Maybe not someone to protect her but someone to have her back.

Gendry is still sleeping, and Arya uses that to study his face. the small cut at his hairline is healing nicely, the stubble of his beard makes his jar more pronounced, he looks serene sleeping next to her. He’ll have to shave today thou then again, the delicious burn his beard left on her skin last night makes her question that thought. He can probably go another day without getting rid of the stubble.

She can’t quite get enough of looking at his face Arya realizes. She could probably stare at him for hours on end and not get her fill.

Gendry sighs in his sleep and Arya’s heart melts which is kind of ridiculous. She’s a hardened warrior, she’s a skilled assassin! by the gods! the man in her bed should not be able to reduce her to a warm and blushing mess. but he does and somehow Arya knows she wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

It’s still early, the sky outside still a dark grey. Arya buries her face back in Gendry’s neck and decides to sleep some more.

 

The second time Arya wakes is to Gendry gently kissing her brow she sighs and blindly and a bit sleepily reaches up to pull him into a real kiss.

“good morning love” he murmurs against her lips

“Morning,” she says opening her eyes “how do you feel?”

“good, haven’t slept this good in years! And you”

“me too. I dreamt of wolfs and Nymeria” she stretches, dislodging his arms in the process and sits up.

“do we really have to get up?” he groans

“yes, we do. There is a war council meeting midday that I need to attend, and I promised Sansa I would meet her beforehand.”

Gendry sighs “I should probably go down to the forge, there is a lot of armor left to repair.”

She smiles looking down at him, her fingers finding their way into his short-cropped hair, gently rubbing his forehead. A thought crosses her mind

“it’s probably better if you mostly stay out of sight until we leave.”

He frowns “why?”

“well,” Arya bites her lip, worrying at it with her teeth “as much as I love being your wife” a small thrill shoots through her at that word “what we did last night might have put you in danger”

Gendry sits up, dislodging her hand in the process and taking in in his own, gently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles “what do you mean by that?”

“The dragon queen, Daenerys, she legitimized you as a way to buy your loyalty towards her. And from what I heard, from the whispers I acquired, she sees Sansa as a rival when it comes to power and by extension me as well since I am her sister. She might trust Jon, but they had a bad argument last night which I believe puts the Starks on the list of people she mistrusts.”

Realization dawns on her husband’s – Husband! – face and that makes her proud in some weird way “so basically she legitimized me to make me loyal and I used that legitimization to marry someone she might see as her enemy.”

Arya nods

“that’s fucked up! Why would she think like that? We all want the same thing, don’t we? We all want peace.”

“that’s the Game of thrones Gendry and you are now part of that game. And no, we don’t all want the same thing. Daenerys wants the seven kingdoms; the north wants its independence. We have for years, even before my father died. The south always played their games for power, the north just tried to survive and live in peace. We want out. The dragon queen doesn’t like that.”

“what use would she have of an entire kingdom that’s unwilling to be under her rule. If people don’t want her, she should let them go.”

“I don’t think she thinks like that Gendry. Please promise you’ll be careful. I fear that whatever favor you had with her might be gone. Tyrion was there last night, he is her hand, she probably knows of our marriage by now.”

Gendry nods and pulls her close for a quick kiss “I’ll be careful, I’ll be covered in soot, smoke, grease, and ashes surrounded by other smiths who I can trust.”

Arya sighs leaning her head against his, voice sounding small “I can’t lose you. not to wights, not to Cersei, and not to dragons and their queen.”

“you won’t”

 

They dress in relative silence after that, exchanging short kisses here and there and before they leave her – their – chambers she pulls him down to kiss him properly. They almost don’t leave the room after that, but Arya knows they can’t hide from the world today.

“It’s better if you simply grab something to eat from the kitchens then from the great hall,” Arya says as a goodbye and kisses him once more for good measure.

“I will” Gendry promises, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

They head off to their tasks at hand. Strange, Arya thinks, how she already misses him as soon as he is out of her sight.

 

“come in,” Sansa says when Arya knocks at the door to her solar.

She steps in the room and Sansa greets her with a big smile “Arya! How are you this morning?”

Arya closes the door and folds her hands behind her back “I am quite well Sansa, thank you”

“Oh, come on. None of that formality, we are alone! Sit down, there is a bit of bread and cheese left in case you haven’t eaten yet little sister.”

Arya drops the pretense and plops down into the offered chair, tearing off a piece of bread and stuffing it into her mouth. She doesn’t prop up her feet on the table, but the urge is there.

Across from her Sansa stifles a laugh and picks up a piece of cheese “where is Gendry?”

“in the forge. It’s safer for him to not be seen by many people until we leave for kings landing”

Sans nods “yes, trying to buy his loyalty didn’t really work the way Daenerys hoped it would. I worry you know? I know the tales they told of her while she was still in Essos. That she cares for her people, that she is destined to rule over the west and the east, that she is a great conqueror.”

“and what do you make of that?”

“that a great conqueror doesn’t necessarily make a good ruler. Robert Baratheon was a great conqueror and look at what happened when he took the iron throne.”

“she might be”

“yes. But I have this feeling. I know is stupid but… she burned food in the reach, burns everyone who won’t follow her, tends to see fire as the first way to resolve a conflict. I hope that I am wrong but… I’ve learned a lot about people these past years. Also, her insistence of Jon bending the knee and her refusal to help unless he does so didn’t exactly put her in my good books.”

Arya nods “you are right. I’m with you on every point there. I’ve learned a lot about people too. Mostly about killers.” She shoves another piece of bread into her mouth “that’s why I want Gendry to stay as hidden as possible right now. I will not lose him to a dragon. She sees us as her enemies though I can’t completely fathom why. I mean yes, the north wants its independence but that is just a fact, that has always been a fact. We bend the knee hundreds of years ago to survive and mostly suffered under southern rule since then. She should know that it’s no use having subjects who don’t want you to be their Queen.” She grumbles, mouth still half full of bread.

Sansa nods thoughtfully “I agree” then she takes a long look at Arya’s face “speaking of Gendry, did he treat you well last night?”

To her own horror Arya can feel her face heating up. By the gods, she is a trained assassin, her sister asking about her wedding night should _not_ make her blush like a bloody maiden. But she can’t help herself.

“he did,” she says and hurriedly stuffs another piece of bread in her mouth

To her surprise, Sansa’s face becomes every shade of curious there is “what is it like to lay with someone who loves you?”

Oh.

Hearing her sister say something like that makes Arya want to resurrect Ramsey Bolton and kill him all over again and again and again in the most painful ways she knows, and she knows a lot of painful ways to kill a person. But she does her best to hide her pity she feels for her sister and instead takes her hand

“it is wonderful. It’s intimate and warm and quite messy as well but that doesn’t really matter not when you enjoy it. and Gendry” she involuntarily sighs at the memory “he takes great pleasure in pleasuring me, he is gentle and kind and strong, and I can have complete trust in him just as he has complete trust in me.”

Sansa’s ears are red “I envy you,” she says after a few moments of silence “you deserve happiness and I am beyond glad that you have found a man who you trust enough, who you love and who loves you but… I don’t think there will ever be a man for me”

Arya thinks of her sister being alone and decides that that future seems too sad “well men aren’t the only sex. There can always be women”

“Arya!” and now her sister is quite red in the face which makes Arya wonder…

“what? I did travel quite a lot you know and Braavos is a lot more open about these sorts of things. There is nothing shameful about women who seek the company of other women.”

“I can’t believe I am talking to you about this” Sansa mumbles and Arya laughs

“if it helps, I can’t believe it either! It’s just the thought of you alone doesn’t seem right. You deserve love and if you’ve sworn off men, then why not try women.”

Somehow the fact that her sisters face is beet red is weirdly satisfying.

 

 

 

Arya stares in the direction in which her brother or cousin or whatever he is now, has just left to pack his things for the trip to kings landing.

Behind her, Sansa is pacing back and forth in front of the weirwood tree

Arya turns to her “what should we do now? Jon is the true heir to the iron throne. Before Daenerys!” Sansa puts her head in her hands, despair clear on her face “Sansa what should we do!”

Her sister whirls around to her “I don’t know ok?” her tone biting “I have absolutely no idea! All I know that that explains a lot. It explains why Daenerys is in such a hurry to take the throne, it explains her behavior at the feast, and in the past days.” She sags a bit, the fight draining out of her “it puts Jon in great danger.”

“exactly so what should we do. You’re the politician, Sansa please!” Arya’s not sure when the last time was where she begged her sister for something, probably when they where children but nothing had ever been as important as this. She is at the end of her rope and suddenly the fight between the dragon queen and Jon last night makes a lot more sense “she tried to forbid him from telling us” she says with sudden clarity “that’s what they fought about last night!”

Sansa’s eyes snap to hers “what?”

“last night” Arya hurries to explain “when I went to get Jon for my wedding, I noticed that he had fought with someone before I came to his room. He looked desperate and there was a chair overturned as if he had shoved it in anger. He wouldn’t tell me what it was about, but I guessed it was with Daenerys. I think she forbade him from telling us.”

Her Sisters face turns white as snow and she staggers back a few paces “we have to tell someone” she whispers

“No Sansa, we swore we wouldn’t”

“I know, but he told us, he broke his promise to her! He disobeyed a direct order from his queen, a queen who likes to burn people who disobey her. We have to protect him, and I don’t know any other way than to search for other people who will support him.”

“We gave our word Sansa! He is our brother and we gave our word not to tell”

Sansa takes a few steps towards her, the despair on her face replaced by rapid anger “yes we did, you did, I did but when has being honest ever done any good to our family? When! Rob was honest, Mother was honest, Father was honest, Rickon was so honest he trusted the words of a psychopath! And they are all dead Arya! All of them! Being honest and true to your word is a great quality but you know as well as I do that sometimes you have to break your word and do the dishonorable thing to stay alive.”

Arya wraps her arms around herself. Sansa is right and she knows it, but it still doesn’t sit well with her. She hasn’t felt this small in years. She wants Gendry. “who would you tell.”

Sansa shrugs, the fight drained back out of her once more “I have no idea. Someone important, someone I know I can trust. You should tell Gendry. He is part of our family now after all and like Jon, his heritage paints a target on his back.”

“we are breaking Jon’s trust in us.”

Sansa’s mouth becomes hard, her figure straighter, her head higher. Almost as if she already steels herself for the retribution that will follow in the far future “If it keeps him alive then I will gladly take this burden upon myself”

And at this moment Arya doesn’t see her sister, she sees a beautiful, young queen with steel as skin and the will to do everything to protect her people.

She nods “if you think it is the only way then you have my blessing, though it might be a cursed blessing.”

Sansa gives her a tight smile “good. Well until then I have to speak to the generals. They deserve a warning about marching south far too early.” And then she walks out of the godswood, shoulders straight head held high. She would be a better queen, Arya thinks, in a way she already is.

After a few moments, she turns to her brother or what is left of him. He hasn’t said anything since dropping the truth on their heads.

“is this the right choice?” she asks

“it is your choice”

“You are just a real bundle of help right now you know that?” she isn’t fair, she knows that but she is angry and desperate, and she really, really, really wants Gendry right now.

“it is the choice you need to make,” He says a bit less cryptic this time

Arya lets out a deep breath and looks far away, staring at nothing “what are we doing here Bran. It sometimes feels as if we’re just children playing war, forgetting that what we are doing is real and has consequences. Jon isn’t really Jon, Sansa has more Steel in her bones then every other person I have ever known, you are an all-seeing entity and I am an assassin married to a king’s bastard. If someone would have told me what would happen ten years ago, I would have laughed at their face.”

Bran stays quiet, Arya misses her brother. She takes a long look at him and then decides to use the moment and ask a question that has been years in the making.

“Bran, you say you have the ability to know everything or something like that. My wolf dreams, what are they?”

Her brother looks up at her and there is something akin to a smile on his lips “you are a warg like me. Nymeria is bound to you. You are not dreaming of her; you are controlling her.”

“oh” is all Arya says. In a weird way, it makes sense. The way she frequently wakes up with the taste of blood on her lips, the bond she always felt tethering her to Westeros even while being drained of all emotions in Braavos. The Cat in Braavos.

“is there a way to control it?”

Bran doesn’t answer, Arya doesn’t expect him to. She closes her eyes and simply breathes for a second.

“will you ever be my brother again? Is the Bran I knew truly gone?”

Her brother shakes his head “not quite, now that the long night is over, I might become Bran again, at least a bit.”

It’s a sliver of hope, more than she thought she could wish for. She nods “I’ll go find Gendry, but I’ll send someone to get you back inside if that’s all right with you?”

Bran nods and Arya leaves. But before she can truly leave the clearing his voice stops him.

“I can’t wait to meet her Arya”

She turns to him and frowns “who is her?”

“She has your eyes” Bran smiles at her honest and true, close to back when they were children.

Arya shakes her head in confusion, head to full of thoughts already to even try to decipher what her brother has just said and heads to the forge.

 

 

The sight of Gendry is pure relive. Covered in soot and glistening with sweat, reparing a dented chest plate. She beelines for him. Her husband looks up and lays down his tools just in time to catch her when she collides with his solid chest. He wraps his arms around her and in that moment, Arya feels like she can breathe freely again. She wants to crawl into his lap, to hide her face in his neck, wrap arms, legs, body around his, wants to be wrapped up in his very existence, stay there and hide from the world until all this is over until bigger people than the two of them have found a solution.

But this is reality and not some dream where she can hide away so she simply stands there wrapped up in his arms while he presses kisses to the top of her head

“that bad?”

Arya nods, inhales the smell of smoke and sweat, and soaks up his strength.

“Are you ok love”

“No” her voice sounds tiny, not at all like the fierce direwolf she normally is, she doesn’t like it. She looks up at him, “how long till you’re done here?”

His hands rub small circles on her back, it’s comforting

“I just need to finish repairing that chest plate, but I’m almost done”

“Can I stay and watch you work?”

Gendry lets out a soft laugh “as if I could stop you” he leans down to kiss her and Arya melts in his arms.

She hops onto a table to watch him work the dents out of the chest plate. The repetitive clang of the hammer meeting metal is comforting in a weird way. It reminds her of the rare calm moments in Harenhall when she was able to get away from serving Tywin Lannister and sneak into the forge to watch him work. It wasn’t happy but it was as close as she could come to happiness back then. Funny how even back then Gendry was the source of that. Her tower of strength, just like he is now. She hopes she can be something similar to him. Arya doesn’t want this lending of strength to be a one-sided thing. She wants to be his tower of strength just like he is hers.

Arya is so deep in thoughts she doesn’t realize he has finished his work until his hands are gently carding through her hair, cupping her cheek.

“What happened Arya?”

She shakes her head “not here, too many ears and eyes” she hops down from the table and takes his hand in hers “our chambers”

People are staring as she pulls him out of the forge, through the courtyard and the castle halls towards the part with the castle’s family’s chambers. The knowledge he is part of that family now puts a tiny thrill through her body.

By now rumor must already be running wild. The youngest Stark daughter, the wild one marrying the newly legitimized Baratheon smith. She doesn’t care about what they are saying as long as they know that Gendry is hers.

They reach their chambers and Arya sits down on the bed while Gendry makes use of the basin to wash the dirt off his skin and exchange his dirtied tunic for clean clothes, all while Arya tells him of what happened.

He doesn’t interrupt her, but she can see him growing tenser with every word she says. When Arya is done, when she has told him of Daenerys wanting to rush south before the soldiers are fully healed, the tension in her - their - family and Jon being her cousin not her brother and a trueborn Targaryen at that, he explodes. Ours is the fury indeed.

“how can she possibly thinking that rushing unrested soldiers south will win her Kings Landing! I’m a bloody blacksmith and even I can see that that decision is horseshit!”

“Sansa and I think she fears that Jon’s secret might become public knowledge, He has a bigger claim to the throne than her. I also suspect that she might fear Sansa gaining even more power. The North distrusts Daenerys but is loyal to Sansa, just like the Veil and a good part of the Riverlands. And then there is you. There are probably a lot of people that would rather see a Baratheon on the throne than a Targaryen.”

“I don’t want the bloody throne” Gendry rubs his forehead in a gesture of exasperation

“neither does Jon, that doesn’t change what other people might think.”

He sits down next to her on the bed, leaning against her, resting his head on her shoulder “when do we leave?”

Arya sighs, turns her head and kisses the top of his head “tomorrow at first light. I’ll ask Sandor to come with us. He’s like me, he doesn’t do crowds either.”

Gendry pulls her closer.

 

 

Sleeping in the woods is familiar, sleeping in the woods curled up with Gendry is even more so. Having the hound there too is a bit of a strange mashup of past experiences but in a strange way, it fits. The only downside of having him there with them is that they have to stick to kissing and not much else. Or venture away from camp and even then, they stick to feverish kisses while pressed against trees, hands in each other’s breeches.

Sandor scoffs every time he catches them leave or return to the camp but doesn’t say anything about it. Somehow it feels weirdly like acceptance from the only father like figure Arya has left. She doesn’t try to think too hard about that.

It’s on one of their tips into the woods that it happens.

They are in the Riverlands. Arya is in the process of pressing Gendry against a tree, mouth hungry on his when she hears a growl behind her and they both freeze.

“stay quiet and move slowly” Arya whispers into his mouth, slowly drops her hands from his waist and turns around at a snail’s pace.

The giant gray and white beast in front of her makes her heart ache!

“Nymeria!” she breathes and stretches out her hand in a haze. The direwolf steps forward to nuzzle her nose into the palm of Arya’s hand and then up her arm and suddenly Arya finds herself on her back with a very giant and very happy direwolf licking at her face like a lost puppy, making happy sounds. Arya laughs with pure joy.

“I missed you girl, are you coming with me this time?”

Nymeria – of course – doesn’t answer, nosing at her face and neck and then her belly before making a small happy sound and trotting over to Gendry to sniff him with intend

“err Arya?” her husband asks with panic in his voice

Arya sits up from the forest floor “just pet her, she won’t bite you, she knows you are pack.”

The sight of Gendry gently if a bit hesitant scratching between her wolf's ears and said wolf whining contently at the touch makes Arya’s heart melt.

Her pack is truly back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am leaving breadcrumbs leading to/hinting at the ending and I am wondering whether you've noticed them. 
> 
> I think I'll go home now, I've done enough work/research for today and it is almost midnight after all. Oh, the wonderful life of a Student.


	5. I'd rather breathe in life then dusty air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Still, never thought you would ever marry anyone. I guess the twat’s all right, makes a decent weapon… but you always were so against the world back then, just guess you would one day just disappear into the woods like that wolf of yours” the Hound's gruff voice says, followed by the sloshing of a wineskin. Gendry is tempted to turn around, to see their silhouettes in the firelight but something keeps him where he is.
> 
> “hmm… I thought the same for a long time to be honest” Arya says in a somber tone “thought I would just finish my list and leave Westeros, never to be seen again, disappear west to discover new lands and just not return but I realized something.” Again, the sloshing of liquid.
> 
> “and what’s that?”
> 
> “I’m a wolf and wolves mate for life” a small laugh on Arya’s part as if surprised by her own admission “I’ve loved Gendry even as a girl, I just didn’t know it back then. When he told me, he would stay and smith for the brotherhood it broke my heart but by then it had already been too late. I had chosen him as the only man I would ever be with. And when I saw him again at Winterfell, all the things I felt back the hit me so hard I could barely breathe”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was... a long time without update. Sorry. After I finished my Bachelor's thesis (I passed by the way kind of with flying colors) I kind of shut down in terms of writing for a few months. But now I'm back! The final chapter is almost done as well and will be up tomorrow

They arrive three days before the army at the gates of kings landing and decide to make camp outside the city gates and wait for the soldiers to arrive.

Arya had ridden on Nymeria for the rest of the way down to kings landing, her stallion degraded to carrying their packs. She had looked so at home, so confident on the back of her wolf, Gendry thinks. Now his wife is leaning against a tree, the wolfs giant head in her lap while she gently scratches between her ears. It’s a beautiful picture, one he wants to keep no matter the cost. In some part of his brain he wonders what it would look like if there wasn’t only the head of a wolf in Arya's lap but a small child – their child – as well. It’s a beautiful thought he thinks, the prospect of a family in the future, the potential of giving a child the safety and security Arya and he never had. But they will wait until Arya is ready and then try. Wait until the world is safe.

Gendry deposits the wood he collected by to the fire and then sits down next to his wife, kissing her on the cheek and ruffling Nymerias fur.

“Still feeling sick?”

Arya shakes her head “no, must have been something I ate last night, maybe the nervousness about the upcoming battle.”

“You and nervous about fighting?”

Arya looks at him a bit funny like she can’t quite believe what he just said, “well I’ve got something to lose now.”

Oh.

In a strange sort of way that hurts

“You did before that as well Arya,” he says all serious now.

“Maybe but now I’ve also got something to live for as well.”

Gendry wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer until she sits sideways in his lap. He dislodges Nymeria in the process and the wolf whines, but Arya doesn’t protest and only wraps one arm around his shoulders and nuzzles her face into his neck. Nymeria stares at him for a few moments and then decides to snuggle up against his side.

“Please be careful Arya,” he says after a while, “I know to finish that list is something you need to do to find peace but if you can, then I want you to promise me something.”

Arya lifts her head from his shoulder

“Tell me and I’ll see if I can”

Gendry sighs and steels himself “can you promise me that if the only choice you have is either run or die you choose to run and come back to me?”

Arya looks into his eyes for a long time and then finally, finally, _finally_ nods.

He wants to weep of relief. he knew because of course he knew, that she would try to return to him but having her affirm it still soothes the most anxious part of his heart.

“The army should be here in two days if my calculations are correct.” Arya says quietly “the wolfs think so too”

The wolfs. That is something new, though not exactly if Gendry thinks about it. She always had such a close connection to the predators of the woods. He distinctly remembers that time, after they had fled Harrennhal when they had come across a few wolfs in the forest and Arya, had somehow managed to make them let the three of them pass. “she must truly be a wolf just like she says she is then” Gendry had thought back then. Now he thinks he’s not so far off because at night his wife slips into the mind of a Direwolf the size of a small horse and hunts and scouts the area with her pack.

Saying that he admires her for that would probably be an understatement.

“will we join their camp?” Gendry asks

“Jon asked me to.” Arya murmurs into his collar and yawns. He cradles her against his chest and a few minutes later she’s asleep.

 

Gendry wakes up on their second-night camping in the woods near Kings Landing. At first, he is confused about why he is awake and why Arya is not curled up in his arms as usual but then he hears the quiet voices of Arya and the Hound talking.

“Still, never thought you would ever marry anyone. I guess the twat’s all right, makes a decent weapon… but you always were so against the world back then, just guess you would one day just disappear into the woods like that wolf of yours” the Hound's gruff voice says, followed by the sloshing of a wineskin. Gendry is tempted to turn around, to see their silhouettes in the firelight but something keeps him where he is.

“hmm… I thought the same for a long time to be honest” Arya says in a somber tone “thought I would just finish my list and leave Westeros, never to be seen again, disappear west to discover new lands and just not return but I realized something.” Again, the sloshing of liquid.

“and what’s that?”

“I’m a wolf and wolves mate for life” a small laugh on Arya’s part as if surprised by her own admission “I’ve loved Gendry even as a girl, I just didn’t know it back then. When he told me, he would stay and smith for the brotherhood it broke my heart but by then it had already been too late. I had chosen him as the only man I would ever be with. And when I saw him again at Winterfell, all the things I felt back the hit me so hard I could barely breathe”

“you know how I said that you’re a cold bitch wolf girl? I was wrong. You are a sappy girl, that’s what you are.”

Array laughs “I think I am allowed to be sappy when it comes to my husband”

Gendry’s insides feel warm, incredibly warm and happy and his heart might be doing flips in his chest. He knew because of course, he knew that Arya loves him, she had told him after all. But overhearing by accident how she tells it to other people just how much she loves him is something entirely different. He thinks he wants to keep this moment forever. Lock it deep in his heart, keep it safe like the most precious treasure because that’s exactly what it is. He loves his wife. And she loves him. Something so simple but still so so so incredibly breathtaking.

The Hound and Arya are quiet for a while

“you really think you’ll die in Kings Landing?” says his wife. Her voice is quiet, sadness laced throughout her words.

“you know I will wolf girl”

“yes, but maybe you’ll survive, maybe you don’t have to die to kill your brother!”

“and where would I go then? There is no place for an angry hound in this world. Not anymore.”

Arya lets out a shuttering breath “you could come with me? Come with Gendry and me to storms end, be our guard, protect any children we might have.” She’s pleading Gendry realizes, pleading for his life.

“There is no place for me in this world”

“no, but there is! Because I promise that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table! And I swear that I would never ask anything of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new!” the amount of emotion in Arya’s voice is almost too much to bear.

“trying to make me your sworn sword now, are you?”

“if that’s what it takes to keep you alive then yes.” Her voice breaks at the end, Gendry’s heart breaks with it.

“Arya… come on little wolf. You don’t need me anymore. If it makes you feel better, then I’ll try to survive but I can’t promise anything, and you know that.”

They don’t say anything after that. When Arya craws back into their bedroll she curls against his chest and begins to shake with silent tears. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close against his chest, rubbing soothing circles into her back. He holds her close while her heart breaks, lets her shake with grieve and keeps the parts of her together until she is once again strong enough to do so herself. Gendry holds Arya, giving her comfort until her breathing evens out and she falls asleep.

He follows close after.

 

The troops arrive the day Arya said they would. Gendry is weirdly proud of that. But then again, he is kind of proud of everything his wife does so it shouldn’t surprise him. They wait for the soldiers to set up camp and then break up their own. The hound grumbles while they do so, Arya is silent, but her expression is tight and Nymeria is restless.

Jon greets them with a grim face.

“Euron attacked the Queen's fleet. They killed Raegar, captured Missandey and executed her. Daenerys ordered me to come to Dragonstone.”

Next to him Arya balls her fists “we should have waited. You should have listened to Sansa.”

For a second Gendry can see hurt and shame and regret flicker on his godbrothers face

“We couldn’t have known”

Arya lets out a deep breath and says nothing

“I had the men set up a tent for you next to mine. The Northern generals will listen to you Arya, I told them that until I get back from Dragonstone you and Ser Davos are in command. I trust you with the preparations. Gendry, we set up a small forge for last-minute repairs. I would like it if you were in charge of it.”

Gendry nods, Arya looks up at her brother with an expression unreadable even to him.

“you put me in charge? You trust me to command your troops?”

Jon’s smile is a bit painful “well I underestimated you once, I wanted you to stay with Sansa in the crypts. If there is one person other than ser Davos who I trust with my men, then it is my little sister who killed the Night King.” Jon looks away from Arya and over to him “and if there is one person, I trust with the equipment of my men more than anyone then it’s my good brother.”

Arya looks at him, the tight expression giving way to a hesitant smile then she looks at her brother and pulls him into a hug “be careful. Watch your back, don’t be too trusting and don’t get yourself killed. Ok?”

“I’m only going to Dragonstone Arya”

“I know.”

 

The moment Jon turns his back to them Arya grows impossibly tense. Gendry puts a hand on her back in an attempt to soother her.

“it’ll be fine. It will all work out”

Arya sighs and leans back into his hand a bit “you don’t know that.”

Arya relaxes a bit once they are inside their tend. She throws down her pack and collapses on the cot.

“you worry too much,” He says, sitting down next to her head and carding his fingers through her hair

“no” she sighs “really. If Daenerys lost Missandei, then she lost her best friend.” She looks at him with weight in her gaze “we both know what losing your best friend does to people.”

He grimaces. They do. Loss and grieve can make you do things you normally wouldn’t even consider doing. Like going on a suicide mission beyond a wall of ice.

“So, what is the plan?”

“I need to talk to the Northern generals and Ser Davos. We need to hold a war council, make sure we have enough food and clean water to drink as well as medicine and bandages and people that know how to use them. If you want to you can come with me?” there is something pleading in her voice. It’s hard to notice but it’s there.

“My place is in the forge and you know that Arya.” They share a long, long look “you really don’t want to let me out of your sight right now do you?”

Arya shakes her head and he sighs “love, I know you worry but I am a grown man and perfectly capable of defending myself.”

His wife closes her eyes as if pained “I know, I know. It’s just… oh, I don’t know Gendry. I might be just a bit paranoid but for some reason, I feel really anxious right now when I don’t know where you are right now. We are so close to kings landing and surrounded by the dragon queens’ men. By now Sansa will have for sure send ravens around Westeros, announcing the joining of House Stark and House Baratheon. Cersei will know that you are alive and…”

He leans down to kiss her softly on the lips “I can take care of myself Love. Nothing will take me away from you and I’ll be in the forge. Just like in Winterfell. And as for Cersei, I think right now I’m the least of her troubles”

Arya sighs into his touch, holding onto his hand “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. You’re just worried” he brushes his thumb over her knuckles

“would you at least take Nymeria with you? just to soothe my mind?”

Gendry nods “if it helps you, I’ll let your wolf come with me”

They kiss again, she sighs into his mouth.

 

The next three days are mostly sped apart from each other. Nymeria sticks to him like glue, it frightens the other smiths at first, but they get used to her presence after a short while, fear replaced with fascination. Gendry spends some time repairing armor that got damaged on the way here but mostly delegates the repair work of to the other smiths. He has after all his own project to finish.

He started it on the last day in Winterfell, on the day after Arya and he got married. He didn’t get to finish it back then, but he wants, needs, to get it done before the battle.

Small and intricate but deadly work. The metal of the blade hard, a steel-dragonglass alloy he came up with while goofing around with leftover dragonglass after the battle of Winterfell. It’s hard and incredibly sharp, perfect for Arya.

The handle is made of softer brass, shining gold like the colors of his house, engraved with running Direwolfs, their eyes made of inlays of obsidian, shining black in the firelight of the forge.

It’s beautiful. Like his wife. Small and deadly and beautiful. He can’t wait for her to wield it.

The days belong to their respective work and duties. But the nights belong to them. They don’t do more than kissing. Neither him nor Arya wanting to give in to their passion with only the thin fabric walls of the tent separating them form the eyes and ears of the soldiers and generals.

They talk though. Talk for hours in hushed voices, tell of stories they witnessed, lived and heard. Tell dreams they have, paint a future together. And when sleep comes to claim them, they curl up together, Nymeria at their feet.

 

On the fourth day, Jon returns.

It is set. They will attack the next day, midday when the sun is high in the sky.

Gendry finishes his gift for Arya, making a sheath out of hard black leather embossed with the stark wolf.

She finds him shortly after his work is finished.

“Are you done here?” Arya says picking up a mostly clean rag from his workstation, wets it and rubs it over his cheek to remove some of the sod before placing a kiss on the patch of now mostly clean skin. He slips her gift in the pocket of his breeches.

“I am”

“good, I need to talk to Jon, and I need you to make sure no one is listening. Would you stand guard for me?”

He leans down to capture her lips in a short, sweet kiss “for you? of course.”

She waits for him to clean himself up, standing next to Nymeria, running her fingers through the wolf's fur. She misses her wolf when they are not together, he knows this and still she sends her with him to protect him.

When he’s sure that he’ll no longer leave smudges of dirt on everything that touches his skin, he exchanges his dirty tunic for the clean one Arya brought with her and takes hold of her hand

“ok, let’s go.”

She pulls him out of the forge, through the camp to Jon’s tent. Nymeria follows them. Once there, she goes to her tiptoes to kiss him quickly and says softly “stay here and keep watch. If someone comes near, warn us ok?”

He nods “I will. Is it about the… you know?”

Her grim expression is enough of an answer.

“I understand, I’ll warn you if there is danger of someone overhearing”

Arya squeezes his hand and mouths a “thank you” before heading into the tent

 

“Arya, what brings you here?” Gendry can hear Jon’s voice clearly if a bit muffled. Arya made the right decision placing him as a guard at the entrance.

“I need a favor.” Arya says, “and a promise.”

“Of course, little sister. Just ask” his good brother's voice seems bright, too bright like it’s forced.

A short pause “I need you to stay close to Gendry tomorrow during the battle. Stick together and don’t let him out of your sight. The best way to assassinate someone without anyone noticing is on the battlefield and I will not let my husband be killed because of the name he now carries or the women he took as his wife.”

“Arya you don’t actually think that...”

“I do. I’ve been an assassin, in fact, I still am. I have the skills and enough blood in my past to prove it. If there is one thing, I really know then it’s killing and reasons for why people might want to kill and the list for why people might want to kill Gendry has two really heavy points on it.”

He can hear Jon sigh and the following words are strained “look, I get that him being named a Baratheon might make Cersei want to kill him, but she probably has bigger things to worry about right now. You are being paranoid little sister. And why do you think him marrying you will make him a target anyway…” Nymeria nudges Gendry’s hand, begging for scratches, he obliges but turns his mind back to the conversation inside while keeping an eye on his surroundings.

“Cersei is not the person I’m worried about the most Brother. Like it or not, your dear Dragon Queen sees Sansa and me as her enemies. She made Gendry Lord of Storms End to make him loyal, he married me just hours later. Do you see what I mean? Especially if you think about it and realize that taking the right of succession into the equation and that the last right to the iron throne had been won in battle by Gendry’s father…” a pause and Gendry can practically feel the heavy look Arya sends her brother even through the tarp. Her words make him feel at unease. He hadn’t thought about it like that. Yes, Arya had told him that there might be people who would like to see him on the throne but not like this… not that he had a legitimate bid for that damn iron chair.

“He has a claim for the iron throne. Probably the most legitimate one, even before you if you think about it. He doesn’t want it of course but that won’t stop people from talking. A strong Baratheon on the throne with a fierce Stark girl by his side… remind you of anyone?”

“Deanery’s would never!”

“Are you sure about that?”

Silence. A soldier walks past him, paying him no mind.

“no,” says Jon and then adding on so quiet he can barely hear it “she killed Varis. Executed him for… well I think many people might now about me. Did you know that Sansa told Tyrion?”

“what about that you are Raegar and Lyannnas trueborn Son? Yes, I did.”

“Arya! You can’t just say that out loud like that! What if someone hears? And what do you mean you knew of it”

Arya laughs short and bitter “don’t worry no one will hear. Gendry is outside keeping watch and he already knows – oh come on Jon! He is my husband; he is as much family as Sansa or Bran or you! I couldn’t keep this from him.”

“so, you and Sansa both telling your husbands. You promised!”

“me telling my husband, the man I loved since childhood, the man I trust with my most inner thoughts is different form Sansa telling the hand of your queen she was once forced to marry, Jon! And she did so to protect you. Like it or not you are now one of the three biggest contenders for the iron throne. You need allies. And while you might think that Daenerys could never do anything wrong, or would never consider harming you, we don’t. Yes, Sansa broke her promise to you, and so did I, but we both had good reasons to do so. Me because Gendry is family and should know of threads to his good brothers’ life, and Sansa because you are pack and we would tear castles down to protect our own.”

He thinks he might be able to hear Jon draw in a shuddering breath. The “why?” that follows is equally hard to hear.

“because we love you. and like it or not, Daenerys is a dangerous woman. Will I ever accept her as my ruler? No. and that is something you must accept. If she takes the throne without bloodshed I will not protest and leave her be but the only woman I will ever accept as my queen in Sansa. And that is simply a fact.”

The thought of Arya never bowing to anyone except her sister somehow makes Gendry smile.

“So, will you do it?” his wife says with unquestioning authority “will you watch Gendry’s back tomorrow just as he will watch yours?”

 

She comes out of the tent a short time later. Gendry takes one look at her and pulls her towards the training grounds.

“come on, shooting some arrows at targets will make you feel better”

They stop by, by their tent to grab Arya’s bow and her quiver of arrows, he also disposes his bag of tools on their cot, and then head towards makeshift training grounds that sprung up in the past few days mostly so that the soldiers could release the pend up energy that came with waiting for the battel to begin.

Arya’s bow is in her right hand, her left hand is wrapped in his. It’s a nice feeling having her hand in his. It’s so much smaller than his and though she does have a few calluses from handling swords and knives and daggers they are still soft. He loves her. He never wants to let her go but he will always, always give her the freedom to leave and then hope and hope and hope against hope that she’ll return to him.

Once at the training grounds Arya selects the most left target and gets in position. Gendry sits down on a bolder to the side. From here you can see the walls of kings landing, see the light of the red keep, hear the commotion. It’s getting dark. Gendry can’t help but wonder about the day that will follow.

How many people within these walls will die once morning comes? How many will still be alive the day after? Not for the first time he is relived at the fact that his old mast Mott closed his shop a year ago and retired to Qohor. But Totto Mott is not the only person he knows in there. He might not have had many friends back then but there had been a few people he had been closer with. A few people he can’t help but think of now.

He is so deep in thought that he doesn’t realize Arya collecting her arrows and coming to sit down next to him. Her hand on his arm pulls him out of his thoughts

“what are you thinking of?”

He looks over at her. For all that Arya fashions herself cold and closed off, she can be warm, caring and comforting when she chooses to be.

“The people I know in there” he nods towards the city walls “whether they will survive tomorrow.”

“Who are they?” she asks curiously “the ones that make your face all crinkly”

He huffs a small breathy laugh at the choice of her words “just normal people. Lillian who sang on the streets for coin, Mathew who sold bowls of brown around the corner from my shop, that old man with one eye and a bad left leg who used to sit in front of my shop and beg for money or food and Cathrin a healer woman who taught me how to treat burns and sold me salves and tinctures for a discount in return for me keeping her tools sharp. I wonder where they are now, if they are in there and if they are, whether they’ll survive.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll do my best to get to Cersei as quickly as possible. That should make them ring the bells.”

Gendry looks Arya in the eyes and says with a seriousness he wishes would not be needed: “do you think that will stop the killing?”

Arya bites her lower lip “I hope so. If this army stays true to its word, if Daenerys accepts the surrender then it should.”

He takes her hand in his lifts it to his mouth to kiss her fingers “I have something for you. something I made.”

He stands and pulls her up with him, then reaches into his pocket and hands her the small knife he spends the last few days making.

It is small, even in her hands. Blade and handle barely longer than the length of her hand. But for all the works he has done for all the lords in kings landing, forged great swords with beautiful hilts made of gold and gemstones, this might be the most beautiful thing he has created so far. And it’s for his love, his wife, his fierce wolf, the woman he plans to support and love and cherish till his last breath and beyond.

“I know it doesn’t look like much, being small and all but that’s by design. It's thin and short enough to fit into any sleeve and stay undetected if need be. The blade might be short but it’s sharp and hard enough to easily cut through thin armor. It is actually a new metal I came up with after the battle of Winterfell. We had leftover dragon glass and steel and I kind of combined the two until I came up with something useful. It is actually a bit similar to valerian steel, hard enough to stay sharp but still somehow flexible enough to not be brittle.” He might be rambling a bit, but he can’t stop because Arya is still staring at the knife in her hands and he can’t quite see the expression on her face “oh and I made it balanced enough to be used for throwing too.”

Arya finally looks up at him, eyes glistening and liquid. She smiles at him hesitantly almost as if she’s not sure if she’s allowed to

“you know you don’t need to court me Gendry, we are already married.”

Somehow in the back of his mind, it hits him that it might have been years since the last time someone gave Arya something just because they could, just because they wanted to do so and not because our of some obligation or because they thought it might gain them some kind of favor.

“I know that. I just wanted to make something for you that is as beautiful and as deadly as you are.”

Arya runs her fingers along the Direwolfs graved into golden-toned brass “my sigils in your colors” she says softly

“well you could see it as a wedding gift if you want to”

“I love it. it is… it is perfect” she puts the knife back into its thin leather sheath and presses it against her chest “thank you! but… why?”

Gendry shrugs “just wanted to. I like it, giving you something that I made. I discovered it that night of the battle. Once all this is over and we have time I want to make your swords and daggers and a bow and arrow until you have so many blades you can choose which one to carry that day the way other women choose a dress for the day. I want to make your armor elegant and suited to your needs. If I am completely honest then this wish is not completely selfless.” He takes her hand in his, pulls her closer and looks into her eyes “putting a weapon I made into your capable, beautiful and deadly hands makes me feel powerful. The only other time that I feel as powerful as when I do that is when I am between legs making you fall apart with my mouth”

His wife’s eyes widen, she lets out a shuddering breath and swallows. She licks her lips, carefully puts her new knife in her pocket and then reaches up and pulls him down into a deep and passionate kiss.

Gendry lets go of her hand and in favor of cupping her cheek with it and pulling her flush against his body with the other.

Arya’s breathing is heavy once they separate, he thinks his might be as well. Her lips are split slick and flushed and oh he just wants to kiss her some more.

“you can’t just say that when the only private space we have available is a tent with walls made of fabric. Gods I want you to fuck me right now.” She whispers to him the puff of air escaping her lips with every syllable reaching his own.

He places a gentle and longing kiss on her lips “maybe once it is completely dark, we can sneak off to somewhere no one will find us?”

Arya grins up at him, her smile lazy and almost giddy “I would like that! I really would like that!”

She snuggles up against his chest, wrapping her arms around him in a gesture more like a cat than a wolf.

He holds her close, pressing a kiss into her hair. “how about we find some food?”

“probably a good idea” she mumbles against his chest.

 

Finding food comes in the form of other soldiers and a campfire. The men are in relatively good spirits considering that tomorrow will be another battle. But those are northern men, made out of stronger stuff he guesses.

The food they find consists of pieces of meat and mushrooms put on sticks, roasted over the fire. Arya leans against his side, her head on his shoulder as they watch the antics of the men around them.

“no, no James, I mean it! how the hell do you know so many songs?”

James, the man in question rubs his neck and picks the roasted mushroom of his stick he smiles a bit sheepishly “I spend a few of the past years in the Riverland’s you know? Before returning to the north. I met a friend there, Tom. Tom Sevenstrings a bard with the brotherhood without banners.”

Gendry has a sudden coughing fit. Drinking while James speaks had been a mistake in hindsight. Arya thumps his back and badly hides the grin on her face.

The soldiers only spare them a glance before continuing with their antics. “come on James! Sing us a song!”

“yes! A song, one of your friend Tom’s”

“do it!”

“All right! I’ll sing you one of Toms songs, calm down” James raises his hands in defense “just don’t complain when my voice makes your ears bleed.”

The men cheer, Arya snuggles up closer to him.

And then James opens his mouth

“My featherbed is deep and soft and there I’ll lay you down”

Gendry draws in a deep breath and looks down at his wife, Arya’s shocked expression probably mirrors his own.

“I’ll dress you up in yellow silk and on your head a crown, for you shall be my lady love and I shall be your lord, I’ll always keep you safe and warm and guard you with my sword”

Gendry swallows. Somewhere in the part of his mind that is not occupied with his wife’s face, he realizes that James has a pretty voice despite his comment about bleeding ears. But the rest of his brain is drowning in the storm grey of Arya’s eyes.

“and how she smiled and how she laughed the maiden of the tree, she spun around and said to him not featherbed for me”

Arya takes his hand in hers

“I’ll wear a gown of golden leaves and bind my hair with grass, but you can be my forest love and me your forest lass”

Arya stands and pulls him up with her and then begins to pull him away from the fire and towards the woods.

He follows without question.

 

They stumble through the camp side hand in hand, oblivious to the people around them. Arya leads him through the city of tents and beyond into the adjacent forest and further still. Only once the lights of the camp are distant and the sounds of the army almost only memory they come to a stop.

Arya turns to him “Gendry, husband mine, I want you to love me like I am your forest lass. No featherbed for us.”

He leans down to kiss her “no featherbed for us.” He murmurs against her lips and then continues kissing.

Her hands reach up, undoing the clasp holding his cloak, his hands find the ties of hers, and slowly and methodically without the urgency, the drove them back then there in the storage room. And then once they both are bare, Arya jumps up, wrapping her legs around his waist and he lowers them both down into the soft, cool moss.

“Make love to me Gendry” breathes Arya into his ear and then nips at his earlobe.

“of course, milady” he answers with a grin on his face that might make him look like a loon. He doesn’t care if it does though.

He begins kissing down her body till he reaches her center and – after a quick look back up to ensure her consent - begins to make her fall apart with fingers, lips, and tongue.

 

They eventually make it back to the tent but only after he drove her to completion two times, and they had reached it once more together. They sleep curled up closely with Nymeria at their feet and in the morning at first light, Arya kisses him for what might just be the last time and slips out of their tent to sneak into the city with the last of the refugees. It feels wrong to let her go now. Their lives have only just begun but he knows, he knows oh he knows that he can and never will and never wants to cage her. Arya needs to try herself; he needs to throw herself into danger and all Gendry can do is support her and make her armor and weapons. This must be how the wives of soldiers feel when they go off to war. He doesn’t like it.

But there is no time for wallowing, the battle in onto them.

It’s not a battle - It’s a massacre.

 

Gendry stays close to Jon and Davos the entire time, clutching his Warhammer, and feeling powerless as around them people are dying. The only thing they can and are doing is directing people out of the city, hoping against hope that they survive. And he hopes and prays and pleads that Arya will make it out, that she will find a way through carnage and death and fire. That she will survive and come back to him. More than one time he has to suppress the urge to throw his weapon to the ground and run into the crowd of fleeing civilians while crying his wife’s name. It would accomplish nothing, and he knows that. At least not while Daenerys is still burning down the city.

So, he does the only thing that will keep him sane right now at this moment, he helps evacuate as many civilians as possible and then bolts towards the gates and out of the city when Jon gives the signal to retreat.

And through it all he can think of is Arya. As soon as he is outside the city walls, he begins his search but everywhere he looks he can only see the ashen faces of people that are not Arya, she is nowhere to be found, she is nowhere to be seen. Not amongst the people who made it out, not amongst the people who survived. He stagers towards the gates intending to go back into the smoking and burning remains of a city, to search for his love in the corps of what was once the capital of the realm when a hand on his shoulder stops him.

“don’t,” says Jon “it’s too dangerous to go back in yet”

Gendry whirls around to his good brother “Arya is still in there” he bites “my wife is still in there; your _sister_ is still in there!”

If there is any possibility for Jon’s face to loose even more color then it does so now “but...” he looks into the burning street littered with corpses, his eyes might be filled with tears Gendry’s not sure, he’s also not sure if he even cares about whatever Jon is feeling right now. He is hurting too much himself.

“she is still in there!”

“Everyone in there is dead” Jon whispers almost as if to himself, almost as if it’s a realization

“She is not dead!” Gendry is screaming now he distantly realizes, batting away the hand that is still somehow on his shoulder and somehow that feels good amongst the grief “I refuse!”

Jon only shakes his head and takes a staggering step backward

“This is your fault. Your fault and the fault of that blasted insane Targaryen and you know it! Arya is my life, my everything!” he is lashing out at Jon, it is unfair and he knows it but it feels so good somehow “if Arya is dead then… then” he turns to look into the city and his knees give out, dirt and ash cushion his fall.

“she’s not,” Jon says almost as if to convince himself, he shakes his head and says again “she’s not”

Gendry huffs a bitter laugh “you have to take responsibility for your aunt Jon. You have to! Because if she did this to one city filled with innocent civilians then she can do it again and again and again and if you don’t deal with her then I will! And you know what happened the last time a Targaryen got between a Baratheon and a Stark girl!” the famous Baratheon fury fills his voice “I promise you, good brother, if Arya is dead then I will make my father’s rebellion look like an innocent little sparring match! I will pay back tenfold what was done to my wife and it won’t be pretty!”

His words are angry and broken and filled with grief and lost hope, but he knows he knows that they are true.

Jon doesn’t say anything else after that. He just walks away almost as if in a daze.

 

Gendry’s not sure of how long he kneels there frozen. Ash rains down onto his skin like snow, slowly turning him into something alike a human statue. All he can do is look into the now only smoking and empty streets. It might be minutes; it might be hours after Jon has left when he sees a horse and, on that horse… a petite figure. A rider.

A rider looking almost like… no, looking definitely like… Arya.

The strength that had left his body seemingly for good returns to his bones and Gendry gets up and runs towards his heart, his soul, the air that he breathes. Towards Arya. Tears streaming down his face.

The horse slows the second she spots him and then they reach each other, and Arya falls more than slides down the horse’s side and into his arms. She is bloody and gray from ash and injured but she’s warm and alive and clinging to him and he is holding her, holding her close and that is all that matters right now

“Gendry!” she breathes into his ear with a raspy, smoke damaged voice “take me home, take me home to storms end”

Together they sink to the ground crying, his fingers buried in her hair, cradling her head, her fingers are digging into his back. Together they breathe and cry and somehow for just a few moments, everything is ok.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, the next chapter will be up tomorow! Promise!


	6. I will love you my whole life long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the first things Arya had done after arriving in Storms End had been setting on replanting the castles godswood. She had let the Maester send a raven to Winterfell to ask for a seedling of the Winterfell weirwoodtree and planted trees in the charred earth left by Gendry’s uncle. “I will refuse to live in a castle without a godswood!” she had said “they are the gods of my father; they are my gods” because it is true. After Kings Landing, she had cut the god of death out of her heart and mind and replaced him with the old ones.
> 
> The Lords of the Stormlands had been irritated at first, most following the faith of the seven, even taking so far as to protest until Gendry put his foot down and said: “We were married in the godswood of Winterfell and my wife is the Lady of Storms End. She shall do as she pleases. If that includes planting trees, then so be it.” they keep quiet after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I promised, the last chapter is here. have fun with it :D

One of the first things Arya had done after arriving in Storms End had been setting on replanting the castles godswood. She had let the Maester send a raven to Winterfell to ask for a seedling of the Winterfell weirwoodtree and planted trees in the charred earth left by Gendry’s uncle. “I will refuse to live in a castle without a godswood!” she had said “they are the gods of my father; they are my gods” because it is true. After Kings Landing, she had cut the god of death out of her heart and mind and replaced him with the old ones.

The Lords of the Stormlands had been irritated at first, most following the faith of the seven, even taking so far as to protest until Gendry put his foot down and said: “We were married in the godswood of Winterfell and my wife is the Lady of Storms End. She shall do as she pleases. If that includes planting trees, then so be it.” they keep quiet after that.

The second thing Arya had done was taking the caste guards training into her own hands. “they are horrible Gendry! No pack of mine shall have Guards that are unable to notice an assassin sneaking into our castle!”

Once more the Stormlords had protested and once more Gendry had taken Arya’s side “Arya Stark is the most skilled warrior in all of Westeros and possibly Essos as well. She killed the Night King! If she wants to train our guards so that they are up to her standards, then she shall do so.”

After that the lords had mostly let her be. She’s thankful for it; for Gendry. He knows she doesn’t need him to protect her, but he still has her back and won’t let anyone disrespect her. She makes her own way and he makes sure no one will hinder her in doing so.

They have done a lot in the five weeks they’ve been here. Lowered the taxes for the smallfolk to make it easier for them to survive the rest of the winter, helped resettle displaced people from Kings Landing, started repairing the parts of Storms End that had fallen into disrepair from years of disuse. And every Morning after waking in Gendry’s arms and breaking her fast with him, Arya will go down into the courtyard to instruct the castles guards. They still have a long way to go till they are up to her standards, but they are getting there. Slowly but surely. She plans to start teaching the women employed in the castle some self-defense next.

And Gendry is getting better at being a Lord. He’s practicing his letters daily though the fact that he’d already known the basics helped a lot, applying running a forge to running a castles household and the Stormlands is still a huge leap but Arya has always been good with numbers anyway so that burden falls mostly on her and they have advisors to deal with the rest for now. So far, the smallfolk love him and the Stormlords hold a grudging respect for him and his lady. He is kind and considerate but just and harsh when he needs to be, just as Arya suspected.

Now she stands in the doorway to their solar, him at the desk reading a raven scroll, moving his lips – a few more weeks and she’ll get him out of that particular habit. Arya leans against the frame and enjoys the look of her husband. Her hair is still damp from the quick wash she put it through after training. She is clad in a light grey linen tunic she stole from Gendry and brown beeches. Arya stands there and wonders what to say.

Gendry looks up as if sensing her presence. He does that, does it quite frequently. Of all the people in the world he seems to be the only one she can never surprise by appearing next to him. It is almost as if he’s always aware of her presence no matter how much of her training she puts to use. It’s comforting in a strange sort of way.

“Hello Love” he calls out to her and she walks over to him, hopping onto the desk to sit next to the hand still holding the scroll.

“anything new?”

“yes, Ser Davos wrote to us. He says that there have been possible sightings of my younger Brother in Essos. Though not Lys like we had hoped.”

Arya hums “that means we really might be able to bring Edric home?”

“yes, though it might take another moor or two to actually find him. And then another or two to bring him here should that be his wish.”

“he grew up here why should he not want to return?”

“I don’t know. But lots of things can happen when you’re away from home” Gendry puts a warm hand on her knee and Arya understands the meaning behind his words.

“anything from your sister?”

Her husband shakes his head “not yet, we might have to ask your cousin for help after all…”

He takes her hand with the one, not on her knee and gently rubs his thumb over her knuckles “a raven from your sister arrived while you were training, she says Jon send a massager from beyond the wall, she says that he sounds somewhat content and happy to be with the free folk, I also saw the raven your King brother send”

Arya sighs “Me too. He wants me to be his Master of whispers”

“So I’ve read. Are you going to accept?”

Arya closes her eyes, there is a conflict inside of her. On the one hand, her brother needs her help but then again… there are other things, more important things now. Gendry takes his hand off her knee and she misses his touch but then the same hand reappears in her hair, gently carding through the long strands. She had let her hair grow out after the battle of Winterfell. It's longer now.

“what is it, love?”

Arya opens her eyes and looks into Gendry’s. He is worried, she can see it

“my brother needs me. But… it would take me away from Storms End for probably months at a time and I really don’t want to leave, not right now. And though it is a position suitable to my talents and training, I’m not sure if I want to do it, at least not forever. But Three-eyed raven or not, Bran is still my little brother and he needs me.”

“you know I’ll support you no matter what. You could… I don’t know be the masters of whispers for a few years’ time and take an apprentice who can take your position after you retire. I told you before that I’m with you no matter what. That still stands.”

“I don’t know if I can be in kings landing right now. Not with everything still so… vivid I guess.”

Gendry nods, He understands, she knows he does. He might not have been in the middle of it, might not have feared for his own life the way she had but he had been there and seen enough to feel the same way.

“maybe there is a way to do this from here?”

Arya shrugs “I’ll ask him.”

He gently rubs her shoulder seemingly unable to stop touching her. Arya doesn’t want him to, she would miss his hands too much if he did.

“you know I’ve been thinking…”

“oh, have you?” she can’t help herself

“haha very funny!” he pinches her inner thigh in retribution and Arya yelps “I’ve been thinking about maybe once my Brother or Sister are here and we’ve shown them how we want to run things around here, that maybe we can ask them to hold storms end for us for a time and travel for a bit.”

Arya looks at her husband astonished “why?”

Gendry shrugs “well, I know it might be stupid but I kind of miss traveling with you. not knowing what the next day might bring, the freedom of it. I like it here, like being able to make a difference but I can already see that in a year’s time I’ll need a break. And if I know you at all then I suspect you’ll feel the same”

For not the first time Arya is glad for having chosen him as her husband, as the person she will spend her life with. Then again, she isn’t quite sure if there even is something like a choice when you find your soulmate and fall in love with them. Because it is true, she misses the road in some weird way. She spends a big part of her adolescence uprooted and without a stable place to stay but now that she once again lives in a castle, she misses what she tried to run from. She leans down to kiss Gendry, he responds immediately, cupping her cheek in the process.

“I always wanted to see more of Essos, see the rest of the free cities. Maybe visit the iron islands and see where Theon came from, see Dorne. Look at what’s beyond the wall. And you?”

Gendry grins at her a bit sheepishly “I really want to visit Qohor. They say they still know the secret to valerian steel and master Tott was from there”

“I would like that” Arya says, threading one hand gently through his now longer strands of hair, it’s just long enough for her to grip by now, something she loves especially in the bedroom.

he beams up at her “so then in a year’s time we’ll take a break from being lord and lady and head off to Essos?”

Arya carefully considers her next words and then shakes her head “no. that’s too early. I would like to wait at least six years until we do so.”

“why?”

“because,” Arya takes Gendry’s hand in hers “I would like to be able to at least put a dagger in our daughters hand and teach her to stick them with the pointy end so she can defend herself should something go wrong before we take her on an adventure.”

Gendry freezes, eyes wide staring at her face, then her belly and then back up at her face. His face almost ghostly pale.

“Arya don’t joke!” he breathes.

“I’m not. I know we’ve been careful mostly, saying we’re not ready yet. But we were anything but careful the first time.” She places his hand on the small bump on her lower belly.

“The battle of Winterfell.” Gendry says with pure wonder in his voice “you have my… that is my… our” he looks from her belly up at her “Arya, that was…”

“If my calculations are correct then I’m about three moons along. I was already with child the night before the massacre of kings landing which explains the bouts of nausea on the way there,” she says enjoying the warmth of his palm over where their child is growing “I didn’t realize it for quite some time though. My moonblood had always been a bit irregular and with all the stress I thought it was simply delayed but then about two weeks ago I noticed that I showed a few other symptoms, that the swelling of my middle was not just because of my increased appetite, the mood swings, the fatigue and of course the sickness in the morning of the first month. And suddenly it all made sense! So I wrote Gilly- “

“Gilly? Arya, we have a perfectly good Maester here in Storms End!”

Arya rolls her eyes at Gendry’s outburst “yes, and he is a man. As if I would trust a man who only knows of bearing children by reading about it with how it feels like to be pregnant. Gilly has been around Pregnant women her entire life, she is close to delivering her second child and has helped bring more children into this world than any Maester in the bloody seven kingdoms and probably Essos as well!”

Gendry chuckles at that “well you are right about that”

“anyway, Gilly and I have been writing back and forth these past two weeks and she’s been really helpful. If possible, I want here there for the birth. Her, the babe and both little and big Sam are well by the way.”

Her husband nods as if in a daze, rubbing his thumb over her bump “Well I guess we can be pretty sure that you are not barren”

Then he stops and lifts his hand from her skin “wait! This is something you want as well, right? Because I know you said you didn’t know if you were ready yet and I don’t want to force you into something you don’t want and I know there are ways and though it would probably break my heart I would not stop you and-“

Arya stops his rambling with a finger on his mouth and presses his hand back to her stomach. Oh, how she loves him.

“Gendry. I want this. I truly do. If given the choice, this would not be the time I would have chosen to have our child, but now that she is here, growing in my belly all I want is to see her face and watch her grow up” she cards her free hand through his hair “also the fact that we created life the night the dead attacked Winterfell is kind of poetic. Just think of it, I killed the Night King while our child was taking hold inside of me. Also, I did _not_ carry this babe through the massacre of kings landing, somehow avoiding blows to my belly only to cast it out later.” She leans down to touch her forehead to his, “I already love our little girl. And I want this.”

“you want this” Gendry repeats, voice breathy and leans down slightly to kiss her belly “I love you and I already love our child and I don’t think I will ever be able to thank you enough for giving this to me. For giving me a family and now making it grow”

Arya gently swats his shoulder and laughs a little “you were just as involved in the process of making her as I was!”

Her husband lifts his face from her middle and looks up at her in with sudden realization in his eyes, “you continue to call our child a girl. How… how do you know? I thought the only way to be sure about the babe’s sex is after it is born?”

Arya hesitates a moment and then takes Gendry’s hands in hers, holding them tight

“The night we married, as we lay in bed you asked me if I want to have children one day and, at that moment, I saw something I can only describe as a vision. I saw a little girl with your hair and my eyes, a toy in hand and laughing, running towards me. I didn’t realize it back then because I had never been here but the corridor she ran through, is the one right outside this room” she squeezes his hands “I have the blood of the first men running through me, as will she. There is magic in our blood, magic that gives me the ability to slip into a wolf's mind, magic that showed me a child. This is her! I can feel it!”

“she’ll be like you?” Gendry asks, tears in his eyes

Arya nods

“with all the wildness you possess. A wolf like you?”

Arya nods again and bites her lip

“and she looked happy in your vision? And you were there as well, right? She was running towards you, that means you where there, you were all right and alive.”

“yes”

Gendry’s tears spill over, he buries his face in her belly and weeps.

 

 

That night, as they lay in bed, naked and legs, entangled Gendry can’t seem to stop touching the swell of her middle, running his callused and deft fingers over it. Arya enjoys it very much. It’s a new kind of intimacy she never experienced before.

“If she wants a sword, I will forge her one just like yours. Small and swift. You will teach her how to wield it. We’ll teach her how to never be defenseless. And if she wants to know how to dance and sing and work at needlepoint, we’ll find her the best teachers.”

Arya smiles and cards her fingers through Gendry’s short stands of hair “we should do both. Teach her how to fight as well as how to behave like a lady.” At Gendry’s surprised look she shrugs and adds “who knows when she’ll need it. Sansa taught me that behaving like a lady can be just as much of a weapon as a sword is. Sometimes it is useful to hide steel behind a layer of porcelain”

Gendry sighs into her shoulder “I’ll really need to implement the Dornish heritage law now. The storm lords won’t like that but it’s the right thing to do.”

Arya bites her lip “you should do that, but I think this little one might one day be Queen in the North.”

Gendry lifts his head and stares at her in shock “what? But Sansa…”

Arya sighs and takes her husband’s face in her hands, running her thumb over the area under his eye “I don’t think Sansa will ever marry again. She’s been betrothed and married off too many times to too many men to ever truly trust another man in her bed ever again. At least according to her own words.”

Gendry frowns “so she’ll be alone? That’s a sad thought. Your sister deserves someone by her side…”

The real sorrow he expresses at the aspect of her sister being lonely, reminds Arya once again of her husband’s honest kindness that she loves so much “I never said she’ll be alone; I have an inkling that she might consider the company of other women”

“Seriously?”

She nods “yes, I had this talk with her before Kings Landing. I think she might already have fallen for other women before, what is going to hinder her from doing so again?”

Gendry shrugs “that’s fair. I mean she is Queen. Who is going to tell her what to do?”

He looks away from her face and down to where their unborn child is growing “maybe it would be better for our child to bear the Stark name then. That should be possible and if not then I’ll make it possible. If she truly is a wolf like you, she shouldn’t be a Baratheon.”

Arya pulls him down into a kiss. A deep and slow kiss. Gendry moves on top of her, mindful not to put too much weight on her bump

“what about the Baratheon line?” Arya asks after a while slightly breathless.

Her husband grins at her “my brother and sister can always carry on that one and-” he hesitates slightly “we can always have more children? Only if you want to of course!”

Arya grins up at him “I grew up with six siblings. As if I would let our daughter be an only child!”

Gendry captures her mouth in a heated kiss. No one speaks after that for quite a while.

 

 

Miles away in Kings Landing Brandon Stark, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Six Kingdoms, sits in the Godswood of the Red Keep. His most trusted friend and confidant Meera Reed at his side. He closes his eyes.

_A Woman of maybe 40 years of age stands in the great hall of Winterfell clad in finely made and embroidered riding gear, a Sword in the Braavosi style at her hip. An older woman, with long hair that had once been Red like fire and is now white as snow takes a crown of wolfs from her own head and places it on the brow of the younger._

_They smile._

_As the hall of Lords and Ladies breaks out into cheers, drawing swords and shouting, “the Queen in the North!” the newly crowned Queen looks to the side to where her parents, siblings, husband, children and uncle stand; all proud and cheering. The Queen's Mother draws her own sword in a practiced motion and joins in on the shouting, the Queen's father openly cries of joy._

Bran opens his eyes again

“where were you?” Meera asks

“somewhere beautiful” Bran answers, reaching to hold her hand.

 

 

Six moons later Lyarra Stark is born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe one day I will write a sequel but I'm kind of not sure about that one and it probably would be about Sansa finding love (with a woman) and Jon finding freedom and happiness beyond the wall. We'll see.
> 
> I hope you had fun reading this, I definitely did writing this. It went from a one-shot to one of the longer pieces of fiction I have written so far! but that's life for you I guess, always surprising!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you had fun reading this, I hope I was able to entertain you and it would make me really happy if you'd be so kind and leave a comment/feedback.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to you can come and yell at me on twitter @zeitwaechterin.


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